


Arkytior: A Snow White Tale

by naturalblues



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Childhood Trauma, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Muteness, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Snow White - Freeform, Snow-white and Rose-red Elements, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Stuttering, Telepathic Bond, Telepathic Bondage, Telepathic Sex, Telepathy, Vampire Family, Vampire Sex, Vampires, Werewolves, Witches, fairy tale, new earth au, soul marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-23 12:46:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 94,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3769081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naturalblues/pseuds/naturalblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When little Arkytior was seven years old, she was found beaten, bloody, and mute in the snow by the head of a clan of vampires known as Time Lords. Time Lords run New Earth. She bears a soul mark, meaning that she is the soul mate of a Time Lord. But who? Who hurt her, and are they returning now to finish the job?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foxmoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxmoon/gifts).



> This is a story that is Doctor Who fanfiction, meaning that I, unfortunately, do not own it. This fic was inspired by Snow White, my second favorite fairy tale, which belongs to the Brothers Grimm. As such, I am a huge fan of Snow White fanfiction, and was also inspired by the multiple published fanfic novels, including The Grimm Diaries, Snow White and the Huntsman, Nameless, and even Risen Snow, which all gave different, darker twists to the tale. I just a) feel these novels need to be read by many people, and b) don't want anyone to see any similarity to any work and think I'm taking anyone's concept without due credit. Someone took from my work directly without credit recently, and it really hurt. I don't know who soul marks belong to, but they are perfect. If you know, please tell me so I can credit them as well.
> 
> After reading these, I knew I had to do a Who version of a very twisted supernatural Snow White that began worldbuilding in my head. I knew I had to do one for the amazing Foxmoon, who is such a good friend to me. Thank you for all you do. <3 Thank you also to Vampiyaa and Cheile, for the beta-read.
> 
> I should warn for the fact that this is my first fic with any form of fluff in it -- I normally do dark and serious, or seriously dark. Now I'm doing dark and fluffy. There is going to be some talk about her self image based on her scars, and her struggle to stop being mute, and the way her ever-present stutter will affect her life. There will also be a bit of a slow burn, because while this is Ten/Rose, the two of them meet and discover their soul bond instantly, and as two people who have never met, it'll take a few chapters. The first two chapters will feature Rose as a child, and Rose and Ten are not raised together. He meets her when she is nineteen.
> 
> Here is the Prologue.

_The rules to existence on New Earth as a human being were very simple. All humans who lived on New Earth had been raised with them, but the rules were posted everywhere for the new humans who moved onto the planet and gained citizenship from other human colonies around the galaxy._

_As victors of the Time War, the Time Lords were in control of all things on Earth. Deigning the planet to be unacceptable and nearly drained of resources, they moved the entire populace to New Earth. Each being was tested and educated, placed into the careers for which they showed the highest aptitudes. As such they were housed, fed, and clothed appropriately, being paid appropriately as well in order to ensure social harmony. Any time the harmony was broken, the Time Lords intervened and removed the source of fracture, thus permitting society to continue._

_1\. All humans and non-Time Lord races are to be respectful and obedient of Time Lords at all times, especially leaders of the Seven Clans._

_2\. All humans and non-Time Lord races are to complete their appropriate schooling and contribute to society; thus they shall always be amply fed, clothed, and sheltered._

_3\. The assigned religion is to be respected and believed in as required._

_4\. All Holidays assigned by the Time Lords are to be respected and celebrated as required._

_5\. All humans and non-Time Lord races must obey the curfew set by their age brackets and Holiday appropriateness._

_6\. All humans and non-Time Lord races must maintain the Faith, for the Founders had a plan of omnipotence._

_7\. There shall be no harming of other beings in any way, shape, or form that is not in self-defense._

_8\. All rules and requirements to be followed by individual beings or alien races shall be given in a booklet, and are to be followed at all times._

_9\. Identification is to be worn at all times._

_10\. Everything shall occur in the Lords' time, as they are Time's masters._

_Disobedience would permit the Time Lords to punish, at their discretion. Depending upon the severity of the crime, there would be a removal of memories, telepathic mind changing so that one's personality no longer permitted them to be negative or cruel followed by a change of career into voluntary, caregiving, and charity work, prison time, or at the very worst - a removal from the planet and a return to the original Earth. While now covered with resources, it was also covered in the remains of the ancient societies business buildings and apartments, all retaken by nature. There would be no one else present to help the person sent there, they would survive the rest of their years alone. Direct harm given to any Time Lord would be enough to merit this most grievous punishment._

* * *

 

_The howling pierced the night, the sound of dogs eager for the scent of prey, the thrill of the hunt; the kill._

She ran on thin legs, no shoes on her feet and barely a stitch of clothing on save for a shift that appeared to be haphazardly stitched from old curtains. The icy streets had at first been painful, causing lacerations and bruises that would take such a long time to heal, but after running for such a long stretch her feet were numb; as were her bruised legs, knobby knees, and arms. Her wild hair hadn't seen a brush, dreadlocked and matted naturally from a lack of care.

The faces of the people that had terrorized the seven year old child flashed before her eyes, making her run faster, sliding a few times as she found patches of ice. The baying of the animals that pursued her were heard in the distance, echoing off the buildings and dancing along the alleyways of London like echolocation, the terror gripping the child as she couldn't be certain... were they nearer?

… _Farther?_

She imagined them in her mind as fear coursed through her body, big angry wolves wanting to bite her skin and destroy her. It was one o'clock in the morning, and nobody was out in these neighborhoods right now, too busy resting for tomorrow's festivities. Samhain was the most popular holiday, after all. Well... after Yule, of course. Everyone kept an early night before Samhain, in order to party well into the morn. These were holidays the little girl had never partaken in, she had never been exposed to such happiness save for tonight. The happiness was as she'd discovered the true reason behind the celebration. Tonight she and the Other had been taken to the Special Place, with the mirror. They were finally allowed to spend time with Her… the two of choice had presented them, except…

_Run!_

A man's voice, he'd screamed that at the both of them. She and the Other had run. She didn't know what had happened to the Other, because she'd stumbled while escaping. The girl felt guilt pierce her heart, making her wince at just the thought of the other girl getting caught. She had been trapped in an alleyway, no sign of being able to escape.

Another loud howl, and this one was distinctly closer to her. It couldn't be far now. She could almost feel it's breath on the back of her neck, her stomach going cold with fear as she worried about being caught. Someone shoved her - she _knew them, right?_ \- and she instantly lost her balance, barely missing the sewer hole cover that breathed hot wet steam upwards, temporarily clouding her vision and sending a scent into her nose that was familiar in all the wrong ways. The acrid smell of brackish water and molded pathways sent her tiny body into further panic than the fight or flight that she'd been in, and she slipped on the steamed water that was coming out of the sewer cover, melting the ice around it and burning her feet. Her body slapped against the pavement, the baying sounding nearer, as though the dogs knew she'd taken a tumble and the excitement made their jaws ache to close on her body.

_Where did the other person go? Why did they shove her?_

She struggled to get to her feet but slipped again, her body beginning to give way to exhaustion now that she'd stopped for a moment, and she finally gave up when it became obvious that her burnt feet could find no purchase on the slick ground about her. Another howl to her right propelled her forwards, crawling with all of her might into the middle of the road on severely scabbed hands, many of the nails ripped to shreds or even ripped off. Her vision was suddenly invaded by a bright light, followed by a loud screech and pain along her side, sending her tumbling to the ground, her head connecting with the cobblestone and making the brightness give way into a world of black before she could fully realize what had occurred.

The black door to a Lincoln six passenger stretch limo opened swiftly, and a man exited, dressed in a black oxford with a professional bulletproof vest on that strapped at his shoulders and buckled at his sides, still looking tight and formal but comfortable enough to move swiftly, belying the multiple years he had worked security for this family. His black leather belt kept his well-fitting black jeans up at the waist, boots finishing off the look as they crunched in the snow, gun drawn, checking the area for any threats before his olive eyes fell on the girl on the ground. The snow was beginning to pile on her, and his ebony mustache was beginning to collect a few flakes as well.

"Brigadier, what is taking so long?" called an elegant, yet bored voice from the car.

Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart frowned a bit and called out, "Mithras Christ….It's a little girl. Looks severely damaged, sir."

The driver of the car stepped out quickly, rushing over and opening the back door for the single occupant. Lord Gamma was the head not only of the House Lungbarrow, but also the head of the Seven prominent families in the area, all of them vampires who preferred to be called Time Lords. The Time Lords owned the Earth, as they were the top of the food chain. They'd come out of hiding after millenia of trying to coexist with the humans, 'coming out of the coffin' as some humans had jokingly coined. Lord Gamma had found no humour in any of it, and instantly called his allies and those like him to take over the human race. For Lord Gamma, there was no need to try to make nice with those who were beneath him, and many of the other Time Lords agreed. The humans had been welcoming to a point, but the militant groups of Bible quoting 'slayers' had started a conflict that was known as the Time War.

Afterward, a new pecking order had been solidified with the Time Lords on top, as the winners. Known well for their need for order and compartmentalization, they went about re-ordering society from its basest levels on through laws, public works, everything - even the most logical religious views. As all Time Lord Elders were born long ago, they had chosen Pagan religions that logically followed the movements of the stars and planets.

Lord Gamma stepped out into the snow silently, his expensive double breasted blazer showing from underneath his matching dark grey trench coat, the black silk vest well hidden at this point. He made it to the Brigadier's side, staring down at the child in the snow, a flash of something in his eyes that had not been seen by the other man since the passing of his wife a few years prior. It was why the Lord had been out so late, he'd been mourning his wife at her tomb. She had died on this exact day. Staring at the young girl, her pale skin so marred with bruises and lacerations in various stages of infection and healing, it was hard to tell what her actual complexion was.

"Pick her up," Lord Gamma murmured, coolly.

"Sir?"

"I said to pick her up, Brigadier. We are taking her home to Sarah."

"Would not the A&E work just as well for the little human?" his driver asked.

"I gave you an order, Brigadier," Lord Gamma's words were distracted, but still disdainful. "As for the A&E," he turned to his driver, with a scowl. "... Put in a call to Grace. I want the tiny human to be seen in my quarters."

The Brigadier sent a quizzical look at the driver, but they obeyed, setting the little girl down in the backseat as the Brigadier held open the door for Lord Gamma. The two men stopped, looking to an alleyway as they swore they heard the sound of hunting dogs, but the sound disappeared with the hissing of a manhole cover, shooting up steam and blurring the alleyway. Lord Gamma slid into the backseat, looking at the little girl's prone body on the side seat, the Brigadier right across from her. What about her made his boss so interested?

She was a little slip of a thing, and true she was severely injured… but his boss wasn't known for his sympathy toward humans. Like other Time Lords, he kept the separation between his kind and theirs firm. But the question still stayed at the forefront of his mind as he heard his boss calling his oldest son, as his youngest son was still at Academy.

"Braxiatel. No, everything is superlative. You shall tell Sarah Jane for me that we are expecting a guest. As soon as you hang up, call Grace and have her come to treat the wounds of my guest. Of course, and have the upper lights dimmed, and the rest of the servants are to be out of sight." he hung up, looking at the Brigadier with cold eyes.

"Sir?"

"Do not question me, even in your private thoughts."

Lord Gamma also did not subscribe to the Telepaths Code of Etiquette, choosing instead to weave in and out of people's thoughts as desired.

* * *

 

A few hours later found them at the Lungbarrow Manor, the Brigadier standing outside of his boss' private quarters while looking at his boss' eldest son, Irving Braxiatel. His only other child, another son, was Theta Sigma, who was away at Academy. Brax was dressed to impress in an overly expensive dark grey silk suit, including a vest, ever the mirror of his father. Tightly cropped dark brown hair that he got re-trimmed once a week, he had all of the class that his brother Theta tended to lack in his urge to rebel. Brax just gave him a cool glance, before his eyes snapped to the door as Sarah Jane hustled out of the room, closing the door behind her and carrying a bowl of previously hot water and used rags. The pinkishness of the water and the slight metallic scent in the air told of the blood of an anemic child. She returned moments later with clean rags and hot water, opening and closing the door.

The Brigadier was amazed, because Braxiatel seemed to be just as interested in the little girl, this young vampire who was interested in nothing human, ever. Irving Braxiatel, in his long years of service, had proven to be a cold, unfeeling ass. The man was self-centered, arrogant, and often fought with his brother. He even waited in such a blasé manner, glancing at his manicured nails with an elegant eyebrow raised, pursing his lips slightly. The Brigadier tried not to think too loudly about his concerns, wondering what would make Gamma so interested, let alone Brax. He tried to assign his mind to faith, reminding himself of the rules of existence. It was hard, letting go of his questions, even though he was concerned; he knew his boss wasn't going to feed off the girl. His answers would be given at the Lord's pace, as they always were.

Braxiatel's smirk told him he'd heard.

_Little shit._

* * *

 

After waiting for another forty minutes, a male doctor came out of the room, looking at Braxiatel and murmuring the assent for the young man to come in, along with the Brigadier. The calm way he nigh on glided into the room always made the Brigadier feel clunky, but he followed, the crimson of the room seeming brighter with only candles lit in the room.

The little girl was on the bed, covered in bandaging. She was clean, however; and in a silk button down shirt owned by Lord Gamma that she absolutely swam in. It would do for pajamas, but it was again unlike the Lord to act that way toward anyone, to be so charitable - save for his children and his late wife. Oh, and Sarah Jane, but she was the only human he could stand. The human medic wasn't faring very well, seeming absolutely exasperated with the Elder Time Lord in front of her, who looked his usual mix of arrogance and boredom.

"You are free to speak in front of them, Grace," Lord Gamma's voice interrupted the silence. "Surely my son is curious as to the girl's condition."

"Well… the girl has a lot of scrapes, bruises… they were just made worse because they weren't cleaned. She's lucky she didn't end up with blood poisoning, but she'll heal up here in a handful of weeks. She's obviously been terrorized, and the stabwound on her side is very troubling. Richard already looked through the city records, and there's no record of her at all, and he even went via blood records."

The man in question had indeed taken a sample of her blood and put it into his tablet, and come back with nothing. It did, however, show her blood analysis levels - severe anemia, low blood sugar, malnutrition… the Brigadier frowned at the thought.

"She's lucky she didn't catch hypothermia and die out there. There's obvious malnutrition, and the conditions she was living in were definitely not optimal... anything else will have to be gone over with Richard tomorrow."

Lord Gamma nodded slowly, before looking up at the child psychiatrist that Grace was dating. Richard. He looked back at Grace, and scowled. "After the meeting, I demand the paperwork to be put in place."

"Mr. Lungbarrow-"

"Lord Lungbarrow."

"Lord Lungbarrow. You cannot just _have_ a child simply because you want her. Why do you even want her? You're not even the same species. If I may remind you, it's _your laws_ that make it so that this can't be done-"

"I may have found your pluckiness to be amusing before, but I would highly advise against making it tiresome. As for why… that is none of your concern. The child is mine. I found her."

"My Lord," Richard broke in, using the etiquette all humans were taught in the school systems when speaking to a Time Lord, "I understand and respect your feelings. If I may remind His Lordship, Grace is not from New Earth, she does not fully understand how things work here just yet. She is but three weeks into her citizenship request. But My Lord, we must go through the proper channels, in order that your power remains unquestioned. We can expedite the process, but that is the most we can do. I must speak to the child, Lordship, see how she is. See if she remembers who has done this to her."

"If she remembers, they will be taken care of," Lord Gamma's voice rumbled slightly as he stared out the velvet curtains, his golden brown eyes narrowing a bit. His irises expanded and his vision zoomed into the street, checking for anything amiss before closing the curtains tightly.

That sentence was directed at the Brigadier, who had nodded curtly. He understood an order when one was given. A rough procurement of a violator of the Laws was not at all unheard of. It wouldn't matter after their Punishment anyhow, especially if their minds were changed.

Lord Gamma stood there a moment, reaching down to gently run his fingers along the brown hair that really was a bit softer than it looked. Grace began to protest again, insisting that human beings weren't owned, and that he couldn't do this when he snapped his fingers, finally tiring of her.

"Did you just _snap at me-_ "

The Brigadier picked Grace up without much trouble, and deposited her at the top of the stairs.

"Your services have been helpful, but now you are late for your next appointment."

Another servant showed her out of the house, as she called out to her boyfriend. Richard followed, after promising to return for an appointment when the girl woke. He wasn't answered, not that he expected it. Grace needed to learn… and he was nervous about their discussion they would have later. He needed to plead with her to see reason, or else she might be forced to forget about him, and then he wouldn't be permitted to speak her name again, with the way she went about things.

* * *

 

A few hours later, the girl's eyes slowly opened.

It was daylight out, but the light was hidden by blackout velvet curtains. She looked around as her vision stopped blurring and came into focus. She was on something soft…? She slowly sat up, looking around the room, mystified by the crimson walls and the soft light flickering from the candles. Her eyes were drawn to the tomes taking up space along the shelves, the fancy gold writing of the titles were a mystery to her, but still beautiful. One was open on the large dark oak desk, a feather in an inkwell next to it. She didn't understand what that meant, but the feather was pretty.

"Somebody's awake," came the sound of a rich, soft voice in the doorway. The young man stared at her with fathomless eyes, and slowly walked to her, his blazer off, but silk vest over his oxford still. His cuffs were unbuttoned and rolled to the elbow, and he sat down at her feet on the bed, head tilted a bit. "Good morning to _you_."

Irving Braxiatel was joined by the child psychiatrist Richard Dalton, and he remained present while the girl was questioned. She was completely silent, something that Richard called 'Elective Mutism', stating that it was not uncommon in cases of child trauma. He'd spent quite a few hours with her, creating a bond with her as best he could and easing her into communication while monitored by Braxiatel and the Brigadier, whose Taurus PT999mm Parabellum pistols were both holstered so the butts of the guns - emblazoned with the Lungbarrow family emblem in gold - were showing. Braxiatel only glanced at the Brigadier once, when he noticed that Richard was teaching her how to use crayons and paper so she could try to explain herself. It was as if she'd never done a thing that normal human children did. All she drew remembering was running through the alleys, and then getting injured by light.

Lord Gamma stood in the doorway, the fathomless depths of his eyes easily mistaken for disapproval when they reflected simple curiosity and impatience. He glanced at his son, who had spent the most time with the girl, and gave him a mental cue to act. The girl in question stared at the way the sunset beams were coming through the window, reflecting on the hues of the wall. It'd been opened and shut for her earlier repeatedly, and she'd been allowed to open and close it as well. Richard had called it important, telling them that she needed to realize that she was not a prisoner in this room.

The little brunette blinked a bit, then clicked her crayon against the table a few times, drawing all eyes to her. She drew a picture of a woman right next to her, in what looked like the alleyway, as best as could be sussed out by a child's drawing. Braxiatel walked over to her slowly, tilting his head to the side. "Little One, do you trust me?"

She looked up at him with a soft frown marring her features. He'd been really nice, and so had the older man, Lord Gamma. The man with guns had been nice too, and so had everyone… and she didn't know them at all.

But he hadn't done anything to hurt her, had he?

She nodded, slowly, her soft cognac orbs holding a question in them.

"Don't worry. I'm just going to take a look, right up here," he murmured, gently tapping her forehead with a finger. "I'm going to see exactly what you've been trying to tell us, and we're going to know what you remember, that's all."

The look on her face nearly seized both of Braxiatel's hearts. She looked frightened, and he could sense the energy off of her body. The cortisol was kicking in, he could smell the fear based reaction in her body. Fight or flight, and she was battling both to try to be nice to the people who had been nice to _her_.

"Shhh, it won't hurt. I promise," he practically purred the words at her, letting his voice slide over her like soft caramel. He made his words hypnotic, as his kind were wont to do, in order to pacify prey. Now they had an altogether alternative use, but he ignored that. "It'll only bring us closer. I just want to see, Little Flower."

She looked at the others in the room, all of whom were giving her encouraging looks. She reluctantly agreed, nodding at him. The soft warmth of his fingers on her temples was the last thing she felt before she was suddenly absorbed in feeling like she was two people at once. Her mind moved without her consent, pictures of what had occurred that day blurring past her, her emotions sliding along as well. It was like a movie reel rewinding, until she was in a cold place, running somewhere - she was coming from a reservoir, soaking wet, wearing the old curtain styled into a poor excuse for a dress. She was running, covered in wounds, until she heard the howls - the baying of dogs. Hunting dogs. Not the wolves she'd feared.

She'd run far off, and Braxiatel noticed that she was in the Outlands, the runoffs from the Warehouse District. She made it into the Warehouse District via a ladder, struggling to get up, and then stopped for a moment in amazement at sights she'd never seen - buildings, the acrid smells of manufacturing that often left Time Lords curling their lips. She'd run as fast as she could, avoiding the shadows, the faces of those chasing her unable to be recalled no matter how hard Brax tried - and try he did. Her brain wasn't just doing what the human brain was wont to do - protecting itself from pain by making the memories difficult to access - the memories were blanked like the flash of a camera. It was supernatural intervention that was keeping these memories away, but not a Time Lord. If a Time Lord had done it, it would not have even contained the flash. This was shoddily done, and done so that it caused her pain.

He found the point he'd been looking for. She was trapped in the alleyway made of brick, pressed against a wooden fence when a warm hand slid into hers. She'd looked up in time to see a beautiful woman, a woman whose face that Brax knew like the back of his hand. Her ginger red hair, a sprinkling of freckles around her nose and cheeks, deep brown eyes that reflected eternity… she held the girl's hand and whispered "Run, Little One," and led the girl out of the hole in the wooden fence separating alleyways. She'd led her all through the Warehouse District until the final street - the one where the girl had fallen in front of their car.

He pulled out of her mind, seeing the girl in tears. He was emotional himself, but kept it well hidden beneath his usual mask of cool nonchalance. Standing up as his father called for Sarah Jane to come and comfort the girl, he gave one glance back at her and regretted being party to her pain. Sarah Jane instantly made it up the stairs, offering the girl a hug. A look of confusion was remedied by being wrapped in someone's arms, someone soft and warm, who smelled of things that made her little tummy rumble. Sarah Jane shot Brax a dirty look, and gently brushed back the little girl's hair, pressing a kiss to her forehead as Brax realized that the little girl had no memory, physical or mental, of being embraced.

Lord Gamma nodded to his son, who responded instantly.

"It was Mother."

* * *

 

He'd known that had been what he'd smelled on the girl when he'd seen her. His wife enjoyed time travel, using her vortex manipulator in order to travel different places. It had been how she'd known that there would become an end to the burning of witches, the Black Death, the change of planets, she'd seen all, because she hit randomize on her vortex manipulator in order to answer life's questions, believing truly in the power of the universe. So when they had not been given a daughter, despite the direst of wishes from his darling wife, he'd known it would be a matter of time before she used it. She told him that the first female child she saw would be theirs, she simply knew it; clicking randomize and disappearing from thin air. When she'd returned, she'd told him of finding a little girl, and saving her life.

_She looked so badly frightened, someone harmed her. We shall have to find them, Gamma. I didn't know what to do… Until I saw your car…_

He'd known it when he saw her. Braxiatel had known it when he'd gotten the phone call.

"Push the papers through, Dr. Dalton. I don't care how you do it, get it done."

Richard nodded slowly, murmuring his assent and something along the lines of having it done by Monday morning. Lord Gamma didn't care one way or another, as he walked over to the girl, gently touching her cheek, despite her slight flinch. She would know him in time. Until then, he pressed his finger to her temple, gently informing her of who the woman had been, why she'd saved the girl. It had given her comfort, and she didn't look at him with fright anymore.

"Lord Gamma, one thing… the girl's name. What is it? Or, rather, what shall I register it as?"

She looked up at him, and he responded to Richard, his dark eyes taking her in.

"The young Lady Arkytior of Lungbarrow," he responded while keeping his eyes on her. "After her mother."

* * *

 

Naming her after his late wife had been his intent ever since seeing the same dark brown of her eyes, the ones that reflected in his own eyes, and his sons'. His wife's… he could give this girl everything, this girl that his wife had chosen. She didn't have the privilege of knowing little Arkytior for very long, but he would take up her calling, and make her proud. When she had been dying, she'd begged it of him. Having this child would be like a part of his wife forever, genetics be damned.

Sarah Jane brought in the food for the girl, along with a little nightgown that would fit her, coming from Sarah's little niece. After feeding her, giving her a bath and scrubbing that hair, she began getting her dressed. Lord Gamma had returned to the room once little Arkytior was dressed again, the Brigadier heading to his room as his second in command took post in front of the door.

Sarah Jane began trimming and combing Arkytior's hair until it finally lay smooth. She'd been as gentle as she could, but every time the girl's eyes began to tear, Lord Gamma got a spark of anger in his eyes toward Sarah. Braxiatel sat down at the desk, beginning to write a few things down, keeping books in some of the family business while his father took his new little sister away from the mirror and sat on the bed, resting against it so Arkytior was pulled against his side, her head on his chest.

She perked up in surprise, holding up two fingers.

"Yes, Precious One, I've two hearts, just like your mummy," he murmured, and she laid down again, feeling his fingers going through her hair. She was confused by the terms 'mummy' or 'daddy', and he could see that. She was confused by how he was related to her at all.

He pressed his fingertips to her temples, giving her mind a gentle, comforting caress the same way he gently rubbed her back, as he'd done for his sons when they were little. He informed her of what the words meant, and then whispered in her mind.

_I am not your true father, but my wife was the woman who saved you. She brought you to me, because we could have no more children. She wanted a little girl, just like you._

Her head tilted to the side, her mind so quiet. She didn't even ask questions in her mind, the way young girls would have by her age. She gave no words, just pictures.

_Because, little Arkytior, she truly held Faith. She believed in the Universe, and set her randomizer to answer who was the little girl meant to be in our family. She found you._

Arkytior frowned a bit, a picture in her mind popping up of the ginger woman who smiled so sweetly at her. She felt warm, thinking of that smile.

_That's right. That's her._

Something occurred to him then that hadn't before.

_Would you like her to be your mummy, and us your family?_

She thought for a few minutes, and he released his hand from the side of her face to give her privacy. She stared him in the eyes and nodded, slowly; her first outward form of communication. He felt a surge of pride in himself, she was showing trust.

He stroked the side of her face again, going into her mind the same way he had when the boys were little, to create the familial bond between their minds. Eventually, they wouldn't need to touch anymore due to familiarity. He then gave her a story in her mind, with actual pictures and movement. It was a fable from his home village of Gallifrey, about a witch named Baba Yaga, and a young girl of Cinderella-like quality named Vasilsa.

She'd fallen asleep in a mental and physical cocoon of comfort, and Braxiatel had gotten up from his bookkeeping to lay down on the other side of her, both of them fully clothed, as they wouldn't need to sleep for a few more days at least. However, they would watch her as she slept, sitting on top of the covers, the girl wrapped in a velvet goose down blanket.

* * *

 

Brax glanced at his father, the question of how they would tell Theta going unanswered. Of course it wouldn't matter what Theta thought, because he wouldn't be home from Academy to meet the girl until her nineteenth year of life, but he could at least learn to adjust in the next decade. He'd think of that later, however.

Brax nodded at the girl's wrist, a slight flash glowing under the light. It was words, a soul mark. The first words that her soul mate would say to her written along her skin, but no one could read it, no one knew what it said. It would form after the phrase had been said by the right person, lighting up and being felt by the girl when it occurred, and then the words would brand her skin for all to see.

Which was fine, except that the girl was human. Soul marks were something distinctly for Time Lords. It was how they mated - each Time Lord mating was permanent. The soul marks ensured that they were fated, and once they mixed blood for the first time (usually done while mating for the first time, but it was based on preference. Some performed ceremonial blood mixing instead, due to personal choice, preference, or varying degrees of asexuality) they could never be with another. They could never enjoy another's touch sexually, for those who did; and their attraction would be solely toward their mate. Their bond was permanent.

A human having this was unheard of. It meant only one thing: that she was to be mated with a Time Lord.

Interesting… he didn't know when they would find out who, but obviously his mother had made a perfect choice. The girl was literally one in a million, the last human he'd heard of being soul marked was over 8 centuries ago, and he had no idea how that had turned out, but he would research it for certain. He could be patient to find out more about her.

His father's look was of surprise when he noticed the soul mark, but then he glanced at his son in a way that told him to drop it.

Everything in the Lord's time.


	2. A Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY AND HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY TO FOXMOON, QUEEN OF EVERYTHING.  
> Seriously, I adore you so, I hope this makes you smile.
> 
> For reference's sake:  
> Arkytior's ball gown: http://bit.ly/1bZssfd  
> Arkytior's room: http://bit.ly/1JSyhGU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the awesome response to this story, and I hope you all enjoy the next installment. Theta is an absolute dickhead in this chapter, and I wish I could say he'll immediately stop putting his foot in his mouth.... but he won't.

_Time Lords were unique creatures in that whereas on the planet Earth they'd had a vampire mythos that called them soulless monsters, they actually had a soulmate._

_Their connections to their soulmates began upon the birth of the soulmate, unless they themselves were born after their mate. The soulmate born first would suddenly receive a soul mark on the day of their soulmate's birth. This provided a countdown of sorts - a certain set of years wherein an adult Time Lord would avoid, for all intents and purposes, their mate in any way possible. To ensure this, Time Lord youth attended Academy from their 15th year of life until their graduation; which was anywhere from 190-215 years into their futures, depending upon their specializations. This form of boarding school system separated the Time Lord youths from their adult counterparts, with the exceptions of holiday times spent with family each year. The holiday times usually remained in close quarters, protecting both soulmates until a proper time._

_When soulmates spoke the first words they would ever say to each other, the marks would change. It would reveal itself to be the first word or phrase their soulmate would ever say to them, and would burn itself into their skin in permanent silver or gold writing that never faded. When the words were spoken, the burn going across a Time Lord's skin would then go into their veins and activate a need in Time Lords to claim their mate, which usually involved carnal, lustful drives. For some who moved along asexual tracks, it would drive them with a need to mark them telepathically as their own before completing the blood ceremony, binding them mind and soul to them. In an instant, a Time Lord's entire set of priorities would change, and their mates replaced whatever had been first in their life._

_The date of their soulmate's birth would be extremely difficult for the Time Lord who was already around, as they were also prone to mating marks - any injuries sustained by one mate could be felt by the other. In cases of the strongest mated pairs - alpha mates meant for leadership positions in the clans - it was far worse. They would sustain the injuries themselves that their mates had also sustained. This would mean feeling all of the brand new pains of entering the world for the first time, all over again._

_Most Alphas knew not to ever use this to form any early connection with their mates._

_All of them, actually._

… _..Except for one rebellious one, sitting alone in his dormitory at the Academy._

* * *

 

Braxiatel dialed the familiar number on his phone, frowning a bit as he heard his brother's voicemail. It was a straight to the point sort of voicemail "Don't leave me a message, I hate seeing the icon on my phone. Just call again later. If I don't answer, I hate you."

Theta thought the message was fucking  _hilarious_ , but to Brax, it was another sign that his brother was too immature of yet. Mithras, but he was already 211 years old. He was nearly done with his specialization, and acting this way, which was  _no way_  for a Time Lord to  _act_  - and now he was sounding like his Father in his own thoughts.

He left his brother a message insisting that the other Time Lord call him back post haste, as he had important family affairs to discuss. This time around, he added in the fact that his brother couldn't avoid him forever - it was going on three weeks, and they had agreed that anything over a fortnight was just being unfair. It simply wouldn't do for his brother to return home for Yule and suddenly be confronted with a new sibling. This was a thing to ease one into. Besides that, Theta had always been a more emotional creature, one who had lost his mother far too soon. The loss of her had tormented his brother for a long time, and Braxiatel knew that Theta blamed himself for not coming home for that Samhain - he'd regretted not being able to spend her last days with her, and somewhere, in the recesses of his mind, had convinced himself that he would have been able to magically prevent her death.

In this way, his protectiveness and attachment to their mother made Brax hope that perhaps his brother would instantly align himself to their new sister.

Then again... his moods were mercurial, and the attachment might make him quite spiteful.

At any rate, it could be dealt with later. Currently, he had to get up and take his darling new sister to the department store so that she could have her own room, and an actual wardrobe. All things considered, little girls required a vast array of accessories in their lives. She had already been there for twenty two days, it was about time she received them. She would already have these things if she hadn't spent 19 of her days with them under care in his Father's room, being fed necessary fluids in tubes and being monitored by beeping tablets, crackling watchcharms, and the steady glow of healcharming by Sarah Jane and a few Sidhe who were paid handsomely for their silence as well as their capabilities.

They had attempted to bring in a second psychologist, one who specialized in child trauma, but as soon as Arkytior had seen her with her long blonde hair and dark green eyes, she had run to the corner of the room and started raising a trembling hand as if to ward off invisible blows; showing off the ring around her wrists from a set of handcuffs. The woman had never returned.

As he was pondering this, he stopped by his father's chambers to inform him of his plans for the day, but was stopped from speaking as he watched the scene inside.

Little Arkytior was standing on a red velvet footstool in front of his father, wearing a white cotton nightgown with a button front and a beautiful ruffled neckline with matching ruffled cap sleeve made of soft eyelet lace, belonging to Sarah Jane's niece. It was too big for her, and as such hung off her body a bit strangely, and ending past her toes. Her soft eyes caught sight of him in the doorway and she worried her bottom lip a bit as his…  _their_  father was brushing her hair with the gentlest of brush strokes, calling her  _bambina_  as he was using their mother's antique sterling silver and mother of pearl vanity set to do up her hair.

She was facing away from the mirror, looking at the doorway instead. Careful fingers went through her hair and began pulling it back into a braided french roll, adding pearl and sterling silver bobby pins that had been popular in the Victorian Era on the original Earth. Lord Gamma had bought them for his wife when he'd seen them in a store, thinking they would be a gift to charm his way back into her good graces after a slight verbal misstep about her mother. Before Lord Gamma could present her with her reflection, she reached out for Braxiatel with her small arm extended, and he was so charmed that he entered the room and instantly picked her up from the footstool, spinning her around once, and moving to set her down.

She had wide eyes when he set her down, but the look on her face wasn't a negative one. She just didn't know how to smile yet, was all. He would teach her. He would see her teeth one day if it killed him. He informed his father of where they were going, and Sarah Jane's niece's luggage that was left in her room for her visits was again raided for something suitable. A plain yellow summer dress was chosen by Sarah, and that made Lord Gamma's upper lip curl in disdain.

"Oh, honestly," Sarah Jane snapped, helping the girl into her dress while all three men had their backs facing the two for privacy. "You're being ridiculous. She's a little  _girl_ , she needs play outfits. There's nothing wrong with a yellow play dress."

"It is unsuitable for one of her station. People will mistake my child for a normal human, and will not afford her the respect she deserves."

"She'll be surrounded by gun-toting meatheads. I'm certain respect will be afforded." Sarah deadpanned, making a show of rolling her eyes at Lord Gamma in front of Arkytior.

He scowled, but if he was honest, she was the one non-Family member that he would never reprimand. In her soft, floor length dark purple skirt and her white ruffled peasant top that had colorful floral embroidery, she often looked much sweeter than her usual constitution. Sarah Jane was gentle, but could be tough as nails when she needed to be; and no Time Lord was going to boss her about. Lord Gamma had chosen her because she made  _him_  earn  _her_  respect, not vice-versa. She kept a towel from the kitchen on her belt, and smelled as sweet as the food she was always cooking. She gently stroked the little girl's cheek, and kissed her forehead, the look of confusion tearing at her heart.

"You're going shopping with your big brother today, and he's going to buy you lots of outfits so you can look like a pretty little flower."

Braxiatel's need to correct her overrode his logic. "We shall also be fetching furniture. It shan't do to leave her chamber unfurnished."

Sarah Jane rolled her eyes again. "Yes, yes. Anyways, I have work to do. Bring her down before you carnivores leave so I can get some food in her. Her legs are ganglier than Theta's were!"

She looked even more confused by the term, not realizing that Theta was a person.

Everything in the Lord's time.

* * *

 

In Henrik's department store, the upper middle-class and above were present and accounted for as the clientele. Arkytior was being walked in by her older brother, who held her hand and walked her past the racks of beautiful dresses. She blinked as she saw the shiny glass tables, wanting to go see them. She tugged a bit at his hand, but he held firm; she faced the torment that every child experienced while shopping - the adult in charge of them not allowing them to go see the shiny thing.

Braxiatel stopped and knelt in front of Arkytior, holding her hand in front of him and kissing it, gently. "Precious One, I must go and find a set of assistants in order to get your measurements. It is of the utmost importance that you choose your own, so if you will stay here with McCrimmon, I shall return."

She worried her lip for a moment, then nodded, slowly. He smiled and stood, nodding at McCrimmon, who stood off to the side and kept watch. As Braxiatel left, Arkytior felt a bit of her personal security leave as well. Her nerves were alive, and it made her feel like she needed to run. She looked up, seeing McCrimmon looking off to the side, and she wandered off through the racks of clothing, heading back for the glass cases.

She walked over, the fluorescent lighting in the cases making her eyes hurt. She pressed her face against the glass, eyes scanning over the jewelry inside. She'd never seen so many shiny things before - she was  _sure_  of it! She felt her lips twitch a bit, and then she bit down on her bottom lip, trying to come up with ways to keep the things in the case on one's person, none of them right. She had seen rings on Brax and Lord Gamma, so she knew what those were; but the necklaces she thought of as crowns. She imagined Brax wearing a crown of those white balls -pearls- and she felt her lips twitch again.

There were necklace holders drenched in diamonds, hatpins that had peacock feathers, cameos, onyx bracelets, and gold and silver rings. As Arkytior walked around the octagonal case, she could see even more jewelry shining at her. There were pink pearls, rose gold rings, and brooches dripping in emeralds and even a hair comb that looked like a butterfly made of turquoise and sterling silver. She stopped right before the wedding rings, and was suddenly exceptionally fascinated by them. They were all similar colors! The large amount of diamonds made it look like the stars glistening at her. She just looked, wide eyed and open mouthed, trying to find the most beautiful one - suddenly her eyes landed on it.

Third row down, fifth ring in, there it was. It was lovely and curvy, looking like a constellation. She set her hand right above it, and suddenly a ten inch tall hologram popped up out of nowhere, a woman standing on the glass. She smiled widely at Arkytior, and said "Have you selected the 18k rose-gold ring with a 1-carat center diamond and pavé diamonds totaling .5 carat from the Abbraccio collection, for only £10,000?"

Arkytior's eyes were wide, and she shook her head, not sure what any of that stuff meant.

"Thank you for your interest. Have an excellent day."

The woman disappeared, and suddenly there was a loud commotion. As she turned around, she could see a strange man in a large trenchcoat, eyes and hair wild as he grabbed a woman who worked in the stalls. She screeched, and he put something silver against her temple, shouting at people.

"Give me the fucking jewelry!" the man shouted, glowering at the other employees who were holding up their hands. They looked truly confused by the situation, more than frightened. It had been a long time since such a situation was commonplace enough for them to realize the danger.

The manager of the jewelry department held up his hands in a pacifying gesture. "Gentle and kind sir, please tell me... what is your boggle? Perhaps we can be of assistance. There is no need to bring projectile weaponry into this institution."

The man became furious. "I'll fucking shoot her! Give me the goddamned jewelry,  _now!_ "

One of the employees pressed a button. There was a loud burst of sound, an alarm system going off, and a voice came through over the clamor.

"Gentle and most welcome patrons, we must apologize but there is a code yellow issue of social discord in the jewelry section. It is advised that this section be avoided. Fret not, for the Peacekeepers have been notified, and are on their way to pacify this situation."

Unfortunately the sound startled the man, and his gun - pointed away from the woman's head - went off, hitting a female employee in the leg right near Arkytior. Arkytior was frozen to the floor in fear, and looked down at the woman who looked just as startled by the sight of her own blood as Arkytior felt. The man fired again into the air, shouting that he wasn't afraid to hurt people. The voice came back over the intercoms.

"Gentle and most welcome patrons, it is advisable that you remain where you are, especially if you are in a location apart from the jewelry section. We apologize, but the code yellow has been upgraded to a code orange issue of social discord in the jewelry section. Fret not, for the Peacekeepers are en route to pacify this situation."

People were staring in shock, making noises of dismay when they realized the danger present. Most of those present had never seen or heard of such violence before in their lives. Upon the second gunshot, Arkytior could hear her name called, but it felt like her ears were in water. She'd fallen down on the floor, and was looking at the injured woman, whose face looked sluggish. She was losing blood, but Arkytior couldn't understand. She just knew she hurt. She reached out and touched the woman's hand, and at first she flinched, until she saw the gold flash across her wrist. She understood.

A Time Lady.

She instantly held the girl's hand, taking the comfort, strange as it was to be comforted  _at all_ , to even need it this way, let alone by a  _child_.

"I'll  _fucking shoot her_!" he screamed, becoming more desperate.

"Gentle and most welcome patrons, we must apologize, but the code orange has been upgraded to a code red issue of social discord. Fret not, for the Peacekeepers are on site, and the situation shall be pacified, and the bringer of discord, neutralized."

An almost invisible wave went through the room, making Arkytior gasp aloud when it went through her. She couldn't move, nothing except for her eyes. She watched in shock as men dressed in black uniforms made of thick leggings, boots, and tunics came in, the flare around their tunics moving up their necks in gold fashion that was reminiscent, when viewed from above, of Gallifreyan script. The men moved slowly to the man, the one first in line clearly the head Peacekeeper.

"What have we here?"

"Social discord sir. Multiple terrorized, one casualty, one threatened murder-death-kill."

The arrogant man frowned, lightly. "Check the female casualty."

A man ran over to them, and stared at Arkytior for a moment. "Sir, I believe we have an accomplice trying to harm the woman."

Was he speaking about her?! No!

She was unfrozen, being glared at by a set of Peacekeepers.

"Who are you, girl? Why would you harm this woman?"

She started breathing heavily, unable to speak and suddenly being pressured to do so.

_No, no!_

"Answer us, or face consequences!" barked one of them.

_No, no!_

She started to panic even worse, feeling like she was being compressed into a tiny ball. She couldn't move, she definitely couldn't speak or make noise, and her stomach roiled under the pressure as she watched the other Peacekeepers walking by people and pressing their fingers to their temples, calming the people down. They were released and walking about their business as though they didn't see the scary man at  _all_!

She finally gave into her stomach and vomited, eyes welling up with tears as she emptied the contents of her tiny stomach onto the Peacekeeper's boots. This would not endear her to him, as his lip curled. The other Peacekeeper released the woman, and clicked a button on a tool he used, removing the bullet. He then put it in a bag of evidence and used the dermal regenerator to fix her wound. She looked up at the little girl, and spoke.

"What's the matter with her?"

"Silence," the medic murmured, looking up at her. "Your blood loss makes speech inadvisable."

"I apologize, my Lord, but she helped me."

The other Peacekeepers looked at the girl, and one raised an eyebrow before a voice rang out.

"Young Miss!" it was a Scottish voice, and the bodyguard in a kilt ran over to her, stopping and showing identification. The rest of the section had clearly been released, minds adjusted. No one seemed to notice the scene, save for Time Lord families who were never adjusted.

"Jamie McCrimmon, bodyguard in service of Lord Gamma of Lungbarrow. That is his child, my Lords."

"Rubbish, the child is human." the head Peacekeeper sneered. "And of obviously weak constitution. She also failed to follow orders."

Arkytior trembled on the ground next to the employee, her little body unable to take what felt like being hit by the car all over again. The employee was given a blood refresh via a tablet, and breathed in deeply. The fingers went to her temples, and her disturbed look disappeared, changing into a happy one.

She got up and walked away, going about her daily tasks with a smile, greeting customers as though nothing had happened.

"She is the child of Lord Gamma. Check the registry."

"I will not honor such an inane request-"

"You shall honor any and all requests given by the Family." Irving Braxiatel's voice cut through the room like a knife. He was  _furious_ , and sauntered past the Peacekeepers as though they didn't matter to him at all.

"My Lord, I was unaware that this merited any truth." the head Peacekeeper looked at Brax with a frown.

"Indeed. She is my younger sister, the adoption was of permanence by the Magistrate himself, gifted of permanence upon the Moon's Day."

The man nodded slowly, and he looked at Arkytior, calmly. "Shall we adjust her memories?"

"Indeed not. She is Family, she must learn what becomes of those who would harm a member of the Family."

"Harmed, sir? She is unmarred by this event."

"Physically, maybe. Although I would even disagree with that. Look at her prone body, how exhaustive a terror she has survived. She has indeed been injured most grievously, and thus requires justice."

The Peacekeepers all nodded as their leader helped the girl up, the medic using his tablet to retrieve a small patch. He placed it on her arm and pressed a button, making her blink as she felt something cold rush through her veins. Her stomach instantly calmed, as did the rest of her body. Braxiatel watched as they took her vitals, and as soon as they returned to normal, he lifted her up, holding her at his waist.

He pointed at the man, calmly; the assailant was still frozen in time, looking like a mannequin. She looked at him, and heard McCrimmon question her brother.

"Sire, are you certain she should witness such-"

"I'm certain. A lesson must be learned here. What becomes of those who would harm Family. Oh…. and do advise security detail to be extra vigilant. It would seem our girl is most curious."

The man's eyes were wide, he knew everything that was going on. Fingers went to his head, and a popping noise occurred, making him drop to the ground like a sack of bricks.

The medic checked his stats and nodded, slowly. "Ideal for transport, sir. Does the House of Lungbarrow request the assailant be forced to the original Earth?"

"Indeed not," murmured Brax, eyes hardening as he realized how much progress the man had undone, how frightened his sister was of even being looked at, now. "I want him sent to the front lines on Meteor B-2356. We need more willing men to fight off the Cybermen. He must learn that projectile weaponry is not to terrorize the public, but to protect them from those whom would harm them."

"Yes sir."

Within moments, all sights and memories of what had occurred were gone.

Brax had his assistant call Dr. Dawkins, who came to the Manor in order to help the girl to decompress. Once she felt safe and calm enough, Braxiatel had an idea for completing the shopping without overtaxing her. As soon as the personal shoppers arrived - two petite women who were  _very_  chipper, as Braxiatel requested - the group was found in the living room with Sarah Jane cooing and mother hen-ing over the girl,trying to push more food and drink into her belly like a crazed Italian grandmother while a woman was taking her measurements, and showing different selections for clothing on a video screen; clicking buttons that allowed the image to go onto Arkytior, showing what she would look like in each one. They made their selections with the personal shopper, and Braxiatel selected the furniture for her room on a separate tablet, planning to surprise her.

Because Arkytior didn't understand concepts like money, she was unabashed about her reactions to the different clothing. She would wrinkle her nose or put her hands on her hips over outfits she thought were ridiculous. When it came to an outfit she truly liked, she would try to get Lord Gamma to make a comment, pulling on his hand and looking up at him with her innocently wide eyes. It amazed him how she said so much without saying anything at all.

After a hefty purchase (Although not as big of one as they were going to make - Sarah Jane had insisted that they cut down on their purchases by half, and that half of the purchases be a size or two more than the girl was currently, as little girls were wont to grow!) they set up next-day delivery, much to the chagrin of the personal shoppers, who would have to work overtime for this.

* * *

 

"What do you want?"

The voice of his younger brother was brusque and irritated through the phone, making Braxiatel smirk a bit. He was so young and pissy, and honestly its charm had ended over a century ago. Brax often thought that his brother was a bit spoilt, constantly irritated by the fact that he had been given the world on a platter and yet he wanted to run away and see the stars.

Idiot.

"I was calling to update you on us. You know,  _your family_. Mithras Christ, Theta."

"Well, allow me to extend a de-hurtful retraction. I've had a rough handful of weeks. Apparently, my soulmate got into a large amount of trouble a few weeks back."

"Did they now," Braxiatel's voice turned amused. "Are you wounded again, you precious thing?"

"Oh, fuck you." Theta growled into the phone. "Whoever they are, they got seriously injured.  _AGAIN._  They're constantly being injured, but this time around… I was covered in marks, and was sufficiently mocked for having a goose egg on my head. You should have  _seen_  the state of my nails, of my entire body. I was in a healing coma for 24 hours."

This made Braxiatel sit up ramrod straight. That was  _serious_. Theta never complained too often about his soulmate's injuries, but Brax knew that they were often quite grave, and happened far too commonly for them to be simple accidents.

"Whomever they are," Brax murmured, "They are still a Time Tot, so you cannot help. I know what you are thinking, Theta, and I blame you not; however… it is ill-advised. We would have to search every home on the entirety of New Earth and its moons, all of the colonies in the star system… and the chances of your mate being on another planet are still high enough to exhaust resources."

Theta was silent on the other end of the phone, rubbing at his wrist absently. The silence stretched on for a few moments before he replied with a soft, "I know."

Brax pinched the bridge of his nose, uncertain how to comfort his brother, who didn't oft turn to him for such things.

"I must apologize, Theta. I cannot imagine what it is to fret so over your soulmate's safety. Mine has yet to give me cause for such concern."

"With the extent of the injuries I received, Brax," Theta began, in a tone that concerned his brother with how defeated it came across, "I would guess you are correct about another planet. Likely one of the colonies where there is still war."

Brax didn't know what to say to that. His soul mark had appeared 250 years ago, back when he was still in Academy. His soulmate had suffered many injuries as well, but none so grave as described by Theta. He'd had very little cause for concern of his or her well-being, solidly certain that their Time Lord family was caring for them until he met them and would begin to see to their care himself.

"They are a Time Tot, Theta. They have likely been sufficiently cared for by their Family." his voice was a soft rumble through the phone, trying to ease his brother's mind. It was a difficult thing, as Theta was the youngest. Mother was the one with whom Theta had shared everything, never truly bonding as much with Father or Braxiatel himself. Because of this, when Mother had passed on, he'd completely withdrawn.

Because of his hesitancy to overshare, Theta changed the subject; disliking being vulnerable in front of Brax of all people. "You said you had Family updates."

"Indeed," his brother affirmed, continuing on. "We have an addition to the Family."

"... Have you bought a dog, Braxiatel?"

"Hilarious."

"What kind of addition?"

Here came the difficult subject to broach.

"Do you remember Mother's trips she would make?" A stupid question. Of course Theta remembered.

"... _Really?_ "

"Yes, yes. I am aware of the inanity of the question. Anyhow, do you remember her final trip she made?"

"No."

"Do you truly not? The tri-"

"No, you're  _not_  doing this, Braxiatel."

"Father found the girl that Mother found. More like struck the poor thing with the car."

"I cannot believe you would do this."

"Theta, please-"

"You of all people know that Mother's illness was taking over at the time. She couldn't know anything about the human she ran into. She was ill of mind, her time sense was off kilter!"

"Theta, listen to yourself! You're being ridiculous!"

" _I'm_  being ridiculous?! You're adding a member to the family based on our suffering mother's insane ramblings! For all you know, she stole the girl from a good family! The girl may have been lost, confused, not orphaned in the  _slightest_!"

"You're basing these asinine assumptions on what, exactly? As though we would not double check the girl's background?!" Braxiatel's voice became sharper, usually a warning to his brother to cease and desist. But Theta didn't care, and barrelled on.

"What kind of person runs into a random human girl in peril, grabs their hand, tells them to run, and then just brings them into their home and adds them as a permanent fixture into their life?!" Theta was shouting by now, every nerve but one triggered by this. He was still nursing wounds over his mother, and as he refused to seek help for his grief, they had become deeper over the years. "An  _insane person,_ that's who!"

"It was Mother's last wish that we find the girl and care for her."

"So give the child to an orphanage. She will be adequately cared for  _there_."

"Arkytior does not  _belong_ in an orphanage, because she  _has_  a family."

"Arkytior." Theta hissed the word into the phone, and Brax realized his mistake. He should have eased his brother into that part, especially. "That… that...  **creature**  has  _my mother's name_?!"

"Theta….you are being most illogical. I recommend that you check your emotions and allow for your rational mind to take over this discussion. As for her name... whether you like it or not, Father named her. Father has legally adopted her, and she is a permanent member of the Family. We wanted to give you time to digest this, so as to not drop it all on you when you came home for Yule."

"Come  _home_?!" the sardonic tone of his voice came through the phone. "I shall gladly come home when you rid yourself of that creature. Until then, I shall celebrate Yule with you no longer, nor any other Holiday. Not Mithrasmas, not the Celebration of Ishtar, not even the Dead Harvest!"

Braxiatel had a feeling that the vein in his forehead was making an appearance. "Being needlessly cruel over a  _child_ , Theta…."

"That  _creature_  absorbed Mother's thoughts until the end of her days!"

"You are jealous of an  _orphan_ , Theta!"

" _Jealous_?!"He was fast approaching hysterics. "Jealous?! I am  _not_  jealous, Braxiatel. I am  _angry_. I am  _betrayed_. My own Family has chosen a pathetic human childe over the flesh of their own flesh!"

"I shall dial you again later, when you have had time to digest this, Theta. You are not in an emotional state that permits proper communication."

"Don't you  _dare_  fucking-" Theta was cut off by the dial tone, and he slammed the phone into it's charging station over and over again, effectively breaking it.

* * *

 

Dr. Dawkins spent quite a bit of time trying to get Arkytior to open up, but the more time she spent in the house, the farther her memories seemed to disappear. He noted that her memories were much fuzzier than they had been nearly a week ago when he'd first met her. Lord Gamma had expressed some concern with that, but Dr. Dawkins assuaged these fears by informing them that it appeared to be a normal part of her healing - her mind was protecting itself from the trauma as best as it could, as she was a child and thereby unprepared to deal with it.

"Children are resilient," he said with a soft smile, continuing writing down his notes. "My highest concern is what the telepaths or magic users who were after Arkytior may have done to her memory. It will make it extremely difficult to find them out. Have there been any similar cases of injured children, My Lord?"

"Absolutely none." Lord Gamma's curt tone left nothing to be questioned further.

"Had there been," the Brigadier murmured, "It would have been a grave occurrence. It is bad enough that one child was attacked."

"Although, sir," McCrimmon piped up, "The fact that the girl was absolutely unheard of, the fact that Arkytior didn't even have a file may suggest that these people could be abducting the children from off-planet."

The atmosphere in the room went darker at that thought, and Lord Gamma ordered a check of all transports coming from off-planet in New London.

"My Lord," Dr. Dawkins called, as Lord Gamma was leaving, giving him pause.

"The fact that little Arkytior does not even make noise may mean that she may need to employ alternative communication."

"Meaning?"

"Perhaps a form of sign language may make her life easier until she finds her voice - if she ever does."

Arkytior had already stepped out of the room while the adults were talking. Usually she liked to sit and listen to them, watching their movements in her silence, but she wanted to explore the house some more. She hadn't truly given herself time to see the entirety of the Manor, preferring to stay by the strong adults who would protect her and care for her. She closed her eyes for a moment, and picked a door, any door. It was three doors down from her new father's room, and the door didn't have a strange circle on it. She opened the door and blinked a bit as she entered the room.

The room was filled with antique furniture that had a certain smell to it, and the air was still. Just as she went to go further into the room, she was grabbed from behind. She inhaled sharply and struggled, before allowing her body to go lax as she recognized Sarah Jane's laugh.

"You are quite the explorer! Come, little flower, you can help me to taste test things in the kitchen. You are too skinny!"

Arkytior looked up at Sarah Jae, who handed her to McCrimmon and ordered him to carry her downstairs. The way Sarah Jane ignored any propriety and just ran the household was exactly why Lord Gamma kept her. Jamie held her by the shoulders, away from his body, kind of like a sack of flour, uncertain of how to deal with a human child who was so far above him. As he walked her down the grand staircase behind Sarah Jane, she reached for Sarah Jane's back, grabbing a beautiful translucent blue wing.

"Ah! Naughty girl, you ask first before you grab! You might hurt me."

Arkytior looked down, letting her body go slack and looked properly chastened. Sarah Jane smiled widely, shaking her head and having Jamie put her up on the counter.

"I am a faerie, before you ask." She suddenly frowned, as she realized the girl  _couldn't_  ask. "Well… ask with your eyes, at least."

Arkytior's eyebrows raised at the faerie woman, and she blinked a few times.

"Yes, with your eyes. You have  _very_  expressive eyes, little flower. I am a Seelie, we are good faeries. We do nice things for people. For instance, I take care of Lord Gamma's house and put up with his guff, not to mention his arrogant son and the gobshite that comes out of his youngest. I do this, because I am good. If I were Unseelie and  _bad_ , I would turn them all into  _toads_  and eat ice cream all day."

Arkytior blinked again, and Sarah Jane laughed.

"Come along, little flower, you can be my assistant."

She leaned over, trying to see behind Sarah, and she smiled at her, before stretching out her wings, which were a little longer than her armspan. The wings were tinged blue, and looked like dragonfly wings. She allowed the little one to touch them (gently), and even showed her the pointed ears. Soon enough, the two of them were bonding, and were found that way by Brax, who saw his little sister wearing a chef's hat that was far too big for her, and covered in flour.

He glanced up and blinked as he saw a fiery redhead wearing a white blouse and slacks stomping through his home toward him. She was a Time Lady, he could feel it, but why did she look so cross? She poked him hard in the chest, and snapped "YOU! YOU ABSOLUTE TIT!"

Suddenly he felt a burn across his wrist, and he gasped aloud, feeling the burn form the circular Gallifreyan that became the four words she had spoken in one circle, shining and golden across his wrist. The burn worked its way up his veins, until his entire being felt this woman.

"Seriously, right now?!" he choked out to her, unable to say anything else.

The woman in question (He didn't even know her  _name_!), who had been looking at him in shock, gasped then, and seemed to be having her own moment.

Sarah grinned widely at the two of them, watching this as her wings fluttered in excitement.

"Well, look at you, tiger," she teased Braxiatel, making him shoot a look of displeasure in her direction. But she had helped to raise him, so the look did nothing to her. "Introduce yourself already. Cheese is kaas!"

Arkytior blinked up at Sarah Jane, who knelt down to whisper in her ear. "Cheese is kaas means… 'cheese is cheese'. It is more appropriate language to use around you than to take the name of Mithras Christ in vain so often, as these menfolk are wont to do. If I ever see you looking at something in a way which your eyes say 'Mithras Christ!' before you are old enough to choose to blaspheme, I will make you peel potatoes." She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at the girl in mock chastisement, and booped her nose with her finger, making Arkytior blink rapidly and scrunch her nose like a bunny.

"I…. I am Irving Braxiatel of the House Lungbarrow. You may call me Brax. ...And you, my mate, what are you called?"

The redhead smiled, and murmured in amazement. "D...Donna of the House Noble…" she gasped in surprise as she saw the little girl run to Brax and look up at him with a sheep eyed stare.

"Shhh, I am all right, precious girl. I am uninjured." He pulled the girl to his side and stroked her hair, gently. "So, my soulmate… you were unabashedly insulting me in front of my Family?" he raised an elegant eyebrow, prompting her response.

Donna breathed a bit. Her respiratory bypass was threatening to kick in. She had been so pissed a few moments ago, but the reason behind it was suddenly not as important as the man in front of her, and whomever that human child was that he was embracing.

"Your entrepreneurial decision-making has caused difficulty in my Family's enterprise!"

"The decision made to no longer work with Noble Enterprises was based upon economic projection. My logic is unquestionable."

"You listened to Lee, the absolute twat, didn't you?!"

"His scientific method was sound."

"He's an absolute  _idiot_. He'd marry a  _spider_  if it served his interests!"

Apparently, the Lord had a sense of humor about him….

* * *

 

The Families of the House of Noble and the House of Lungbarrow were both informed of the excellent news - the entrepreneurial split was not permanent - their families were coming together. Over the next few days, Donna's parents got cards and wishes of felicitations, and Lord Gamma received the same. Donna lit a candle and stood in front of a statue of the Lady Arkytior, bowing and taking Brax's hand, to extend the well wishes to his mother's memory. Lord Gamma was by their side, holding his daughter's hand as he helped her to light her first candle for mummy.

Arkytior was put to bed in Lord Gamma's room while he was sitting on the edge of her bed, doing paperwork. Donna and Braxiatel were in what was to become Arkytior's room, as when he'd told her how his little sister had come to be adopted, she'd just been awestruck. It was unheard of, although her soul mark gave it more merit. His hearts felt warm as he'd heard her say "If she is important to you, then she is my life too, Brax."

He'd always known that finding your mate was to be an amazing experience, but this went beyond measure. His beloved and he were both asexual, and did not enjoy a carnal experience. However, they both enjoyed a lover's touch, and had found that spooning was their favorite thing to do. They were in the market for a new bed for the two of them, and spoonability had been a key factor in its choice. He was already admiring things about her… her pluckiness, her lazy smiles, the way her hair reminded him of fire… she was perfect. Meanwhile she was already admiring things about him as well. He came off as an arrogant ass, but he always checked in on his brother and was the sweetest to his sister. He was an excellent Alpha with a good head for business and a calm demeanor that left her feeling protected. Based on his actions toward his sister, he was more than suitable for becoming a father one day.

Donna had made the decision to help him to set up little Arkytior's room, insisting on cancelling a few pieces of the furniture entirely, having the boxes sent back and picking out different ones. She told him that in order to bond with him more, and in order to make the room truly special for Arkytior, that they should both put everything together and in its place by hand. Brax did not simply allow Donna to take the lead, but insisted on negotiating with her; something she found endearing to the thrum of her heartsbeat.

Together they painted the walls a soft, pale pink that was called Ballet Slipper, and went about making the trim white. They exchanged a few stories, explaining likes and dislikes as they went about things, both of them secure in the knowledge that they had both been ready to meet and settle down for quite some time now, so this was merely a pleasant surprise. Donna began to paint little pink roses along the now dry wall, watching as Brax leaned close to inspect it. She thought it was adorable, the way he insisted on everything being perfect. She dabbed the paintbrush on his nose, laughing as the green smeared, and the way he batted at it like a kitten. She painted multiple roses on every wall, and smiled at her work when it was complete.

After a few hours of work, they sat down on the tarp covering the cement, discussing the merits of track lighting, which Donna scrunched up her nose at. Finally, Brax decided it was time to tell her, via a mental connection, just how bad it had been with little Arkytior. Upon seeing the girl in her mind, so battered and bruised… Donna was horrified. She asked the questions that had of course already occurred to Braxiatel and his father.

"Do you think the girl was attacked by a Faust?"

"No… her wounds were not burns. Although she does possess some burns on her. Father believes they were purposeful, but likely not from a form of magick."

"A Twist?"

He frowned, trying to come up with an answer to that. A Twist may make sense, being as they were so near the Wastelands. "We are uncertain. It could have been anything, even a member of Family who Borrowed in ways that have not been seen since the days of Olde. It is usually the Stregare who have been known to take children and to torture them before Borrowing. But that does not happen anymore. All of the Stregare were driven out, to our knowledge. We are at a loss, lest it was an ill soldier."

"But the soldiers who suffer from Post Traumatic Stress have all had their minds corrected as soon as they return to New Earth."

"They have  _now_ , of course. But it was not so always."

"I will protect her as well, Braxiatel. She is now my sister as well. I will not harm her."

He nodded, and then they returned to work, installing a chandelier, extra lighting, and went about building the bed that looked like a castle. Donna had insisted that it was perfect for a little princess, and they went about spending the rest of the next few days building the room and getting to know each other. Lord Gamma was pleased to see the two of them getting on the way he and his soulmate had.

A week after the meeting of Donna and Braxiatel allowed for the evening of their wedding and subsequent bloodbonding.

* * *

 

Every House of the Seven had a ballroom. The House Lungbarrow's was a long, wooden-floored expanse ("Medium cherry wood floor!" as Sarah Jane had told her) that was polished so well it looked red as a blood stain. The wrought-iron tables and chairs and tables along the walls were a hint of the old country, Lord Gamma's accent told of his origins on the planet Earth as plain as day; but Italy - at least the original one - was long dead, the Colosseo and even the Leaning Tour having long been reclaimed by nature, no one but the animals to enjoy them. There were many smaller rooms cut in along the walls, Sarah Jane informed her of what each one was - the ladies' resting room ('For when the ladies need to rest from dancing. Well, that's what the men  _think_. Really, it's for when they tire of dealing with  _men_.'), the smoking room ('Do not let me catch you in there, flower, or I shall scold you  _good_!'), the two supper rooms for the upper echelons of the Family, the solarium, two private audience chambers for Family business to be handled in, the playroom for the children too young to participate in the dancing ('You will spend most of the night there, flower, but do not fret. You will be introduced!'), a private room for the Family hosting the event to go into in order to rest ('Beh, more like  _escape to_.'), and a room that she had lightly called the Borrowing room. She didn't make much fuss about it, seeming to change the subject quickly.

When Arkytior had seen it, she'd been moved away quickly. As Sarah Jane had said, it was time to get ready anyhow, as the licensed and charm-bonded caterers were already hard at work, preparing the vast meals for the evening. Charm-bonded, as the faerie had explained to her, meant that they had been warded, magically charmed so that they could not harm a single guest, nor go back on their word to tell none of whatever they had seen occur there.

After getting Arkytior dressed in a white satin dress, with a ruby red bow around the waist and a lovely red rose on the side. But it was the skirt that made her feel truly magical - her skirt was made of white satin as well, but there was a layer of tulle as the outer layer, with red rose petals trapped inside. It made her think of the image she'd seen on the vid screen that Braxiatel was watching - rose petals from a dropped rose, scattered in powdery white that he called  _snow_.

As Arkytior was walked inside the ballroom, standing at the top of a grand, forked staircase next to her Father, a man in a silly outfit made of what looked like puffy velvet shorts announced her arrival after clanging a heavy gold looking staff, making the music stop.

" _The Grand Lord Gamma, and his daughter, the Young Lady Arkytior of Lungbarrow have arrived!_ "

She jumped a bit, startled; until Donna beckoned her down the steps and Lord Gamma walked her slowly down, his hand in hers giving her strength. Donna was in a lovely bridal gown, satin and glitteries on her that made Arkytior's eyes shine. It was an empire waisted v-necked gown, and she had a medium length veil on her head. Arkytior was instantly pulled to Donna's arms as they celebrated their completion of the blood-letting ceremony. The charm-bonded caterers were threading through the guests expertly, with silver trays bearing expensive fluted crystal goblets filled with champagne, champagne and calf, and fruit juices being brought for the children's quarters - not to mention the canapés. The bar was keeping everyone's drinks filled tonight with three bartenders on staff, and the giant crystal-draped chandelier reminded Arkytior of her new sister in law's dress.

Members of all Seven Families were present, most especially from the Houses of Noble and Lungbarrow. Theta Sigma, the older brother she'd just heard about, was unable to be present. Braxiatel told her it was because he was studying so hard. He said that Theta was a proud man, and wanted her to be proud of him when they finally met. The words had tasted like ash in Brax's mouth - how could he lie to her? At the same moment, how could he tell this girl that a member of her Family rebuked her?

Donna touched his arm, hearing his thoughts. She squeezed gently, and sent him a reassuring current into his mind. Donna. Perfect, lovely Donna. He could feel her soft smile, and a lack of belief as well. He would have to fix that, certainly. But for now, Arkytior was standing by their Father, watching the couple's first dance, and the cutting of the cake. He'd placed the small piece of cake on a fork, and ever so gently placed it in his wife's mouth. His wife, on the other hand, smashed him in the face with it. Not exactly planning for that, he now had a quandary of how to politely clear cake from his nasal passages whilst maintaining… some form of dignity.

Arkytior was wearing the veil that Donna had worn, photos of them being taken and Families discussing how the couple looked. No one said anything to Lord Gamma about his odd choices. No one had the nerve. Donna walked her over to the children's play area, allowing her to meet a lot of Time tots. She'd impressed upon them that the girl was her sister now, and they were to play nice. But, Donna and Brax's gift to her probably made for a much better incentive. It was a baby dragon, a green and yellow mixed one who walked on two legs and who'd come with the name Matches. Matches, who hated  _everyone_ , warmed up to Arkytior instantly.

The first Time tot who was an ass to Arkytior got a hot foot. The second got a hot butt. There was no third, because damn if that wasn't incentive to behave.

Arkytior took a few bites of the cake she'd been given, before becoming full. She left the Time tots after an hour, just to walk to the other side of the room. She stopped, seeing a mirrored toy - it was a jewelry plate for the dolls, made of real mirrored glass. The mirror made her pant, shaking her head and trying to get away from it. She didn't remember why, but something about the mirror scared her down to her core. She could hear the mirror in her head, as if mirrors could speak.

She dropped the toy, and it hit the marble floor, shattering instantly. Matches hissed at the glass, but looked up at her in concern. She bent down, reaching for a piece and cutting into her hand, deeply. Matches ran outside the room, instantly grabbing hold of the Brigadier and hissing and snarling at him. The words were indecipherable, but he got the hint that the girl needed help. The Time tots were circling the girl when he made it to the playroom, and he called out, "Break it up! Now!"

The Time tots, less in control of the Hunger, stepped back. He paged for a caterer to come in and clean up the mess, then paged Sarah, picking up a trembling Arkytior, who was holding her hand and rubbing her wrist.

In this way, barely three hours into the night, Arkytior lost out on her first party, being rushed up a back stairway to be treated for her hand.

* * *

 

Braxiatel was holding onto Arkytior's good hand, allowing her to sleep deeply. Donna was at the door, and she knocked, lightly.

_Your brother is on the phone._

Goddamn if Theta wasn't the last person he wanted to speak to right now.

"What do you want, Theta? You've already missed my wedding, what more could you contribute to the evening?!" he asked as his lifemate gave him the cell.

_Be nice. He's your only brother._

"Well, look who's showing all the manners of a minotaur. After hanging up on me."

The tone to Theta's voice was one of fear. "Theta…. what happened?"

"Something has to happen for me to call my big brother?"

"Theta…" he sniped in a warning tone.

"My mate is likely in a wartorn situation. I have told you that they are always injured…  _always_. Then tonight... they were injured tonight again… and I did something  _terrible_."

"Wait…. Theta, when you say  _always_  injured... do you mean as gravely as you were injured before?"

The silence was answer enough. Braxiatel had simply thought the Time Tot clumsy before, but after their earlier discussion, his mind was changing.

"Theta…. what have you done?"

He was willing to forgive his brother, at this point, for missing his wedding provided his brother hadn't done anything crazy…

"I…."

"Theta…! Tell me, dammit."

"I felt it, when they were injured again tonight… I bled... and so I've oft wondered if perhaps… mayhap they, when in these situations, have no other Time Lord to listen to! Mayhap the enemy catches them  _alone_."

"Theta, get to the  _point_!"

"I carved the word 'Run!' into my forearm, for them to feel and see. The injuries stopped, so maybe…. maybe they listened, maybe they got to safety…"

"Theta…. you…. you  _irresponsible_ , unbelievable-"

"You think I don't  _know_  that?! You think I haven't called myself that all night long?!"

"Do you know what you could have done?! What you could have awakened in them?! They are a  _child_ , Theta, and Time Lords, once you awaken the soul bond…. if they are unable to get to you, they could go  _mad_!"

"I  _know that!_  I did it out of desperation to save my mate!"

"Brax," Donna's voice filtered in through the phone. "The watchcharm went off. You're being too loud."

"Being too loud for what?" Theta snapped.

"Our younger sister was injured this evening by broken glass."

Younger sister. The words grated across Theta.

"Younger sister," he sneered. The words felt too much. He hated her. Hated. One day, he would tell her to her face.

"Yes, younger sister," Brax murmured, while changing Arkytior's gauze on her hand and wrist. As soon as he pulled the previous gauze off, he felt a raised bit on her forearm. He stopped, and looked down at it.

In plain circular Gallifreyan, it said 'Run!". Her wrist flashed gold, saying the same thing. Donna whipped around at that, she'd been checking the tablet, and she looked down at Arkytior's arm for reassurance of reality.

 _Holy shit_ …..

"Listen, Braxiatel. I don't give a fuck about that child. Plainly. That  _creature_ , she will  _never_ , ever, ever be  _my sister_. Am I clear?"

Brax's lips twitched upwards as he took it all in. "As you seem immovable on the subject… I am forced to concur with you…. she will never be your  _sister_ …."

Brax and Donna left Arkytior tucked into her bed, and clicked off the light, trusting Matches with her safekeeping. They reset the watchcharm, and Braxiatel continued to lay into his brother for his carelessness, worrying about if Arkytior would become restless and mad without his presence. An unfinished connection was  _dangerous_.

* * *

 

_The Nightmare wrapped its clawed fingers around her mind, never even giving the golden twisps of beautiful Dreams a chance with her._

_The beautiful woman smelling of perfumed smoke had long, curly golden hair and sharp blue eyes. She stared down at the girl, her red lips set in a slight smile… just the barest hint of amusement that would ensure that her emotions were projected without risking a single line on her face. Her perfect face, oh how she could spend hours, weeks, months, years talking about her perfect face. She was famous, you see. She was somebody, with beauty like that. She was above all of the ugly sort, the disgusting sort that just couldn't be handled to be viewed by her. She had elegant eyebrows, high cheekbones, and everything about her spoke of an ancient elegance. The heavy velvet of her silver dress was covered in sparkles, and it dragged along with soft noises in the ankle high dust, glancing over a mushroom here and there. Her broad, white hands were slightly large for her frame, but she made up for it with delicate fingers. Her summer blue eyes were darkening as she stared down at the two girls, and when they turned a deep shade of midnight, it would be the time for her and the Other._

_She whispered to the girls, hissing at them over the frantic baying of dogs that echoed down the path._

**You are nobody. You are nothing.**

_Arkytior knew it was true, but she still struggled. She felt the hands of the woman stroking her dirty face, rings glistening on her fingers, and suddenly her head was snapped to the side by a blow she hadn't been expecting. The rest of her was held down, throbbing with pain from the last beating. The woman gripped the girls' hair, yanking until the Other let out a cry of pain. Arkytior refused to give the satisfaction._

**Your hair is the color of filth. You are nobody. Nothing. Nothing but filth.**

_No!_

_Her teeth sunk into the hand, and she bit with all of her might while the woman flung at her, shrieking with fury. The shape behind her was of a man, this man's face was familiar. Streaked with dirt, but still a white, if tanned face. He had sandy hair, and as Arkytior thrashed against the handcuffs in a way that the Other never did, his expression twisted to one of pain. He was dressed in a brown leather jerkin and breeches, brown and green making him look almost elfin if not for the lack of long hair._

_Her shriek ended, and her face, contorted into something hideous by rage, smoothed itself out. She hissed between her teeth, and began to play with her necklace in order to calm herself, a silver medallion with a small pocket of glass in the middle. It held red blood in it, and Arkytior knew it was how she controlled the Huntsman. He could not fight blood control - no one could. The woman often would steal some of their blood in order to force them to lay there and do nothing while they were beaten bloody._

**This one's heart is fiery. The other's is weak.**

_They left the two of them alone, in their silence, the cell door swinging shut with a violent sounding clang. There was a strange voice in between the girls' ears, informing them over and over again of the woman's cruel words, the smoke clogging their senses, as it was made for. She felt empty and too big at the same time, feeling like she was meant for more than this._

**You are nobody. You are nothing. Filthy, you are filth.**

_Arkytior knew the words were true, but she pulled against the cuffs anyhow. She twisted them back and forth, making her hands drench themselves anew in blood that was never cleaned. making a sound like a dying gasp, because her throat had been crushed repeatedly under that woman's shoe, but literally, and metaphorically._

* * *

 

Arkytior jolted awake in the dark of her new bedroom, terrified instantly that she was back in the cell instead of in her lovely bed that her brother and his new wife had spent so many hours putting together by hand, instead of paying another to do so. She scrambled out of her bed, and ran on the soft padded carpet, her white cotton nightgown brushing along the floor as she toddled as fast as her little legs would allow her.

She struggled to turn the doorknob with her clammy hands, and exited the room, heading down the hall to her Father's. She could hear strange music coming from the room, echoing along the halls the same way the baying dogs had echoed. The tingling noises were strange to her, but she kept on, shoving the door open and looking up at Lord Gamma, whose eyes shot up from where they had been staring at a video of himself and his wife dancing on their anniversary to their song. He set down his glass of whiskey and calf and instantly went to her, offering his arms for her to decide if she would like an embrace.

She threw herself into his arms, tears streaking down her face silently. Lord Gamma lifted her up and held her tightly, stroking her hair from her face gently.

"What is it, bambina? Have you been injured?"

She shook her head, looking into his eyes with her glassy ones. He gently rubbed the pad of his thumb across her cheekbone, taking with it the tears.

"Have you had a nightmare, piccola?"

She blinked a bit, trying to digest the word. She often did that when they spoke, as though barely used to people prompting her for answers. She slowly nodded, after some thought.

"I am so sorry that you have suffered so. Shall you like to stay with me?"

She nodded again, and stared at the video of him dancing with his wife. She wrinkled her nose in thought, thinking back to the celebration of the blood bonding of her brother and his new wife. People had been doing that with each other all over the room.

"Would you like to dance, piccolina? I noticed you did not get a chance to dance all evening. Not good for your first evening out."

She tilted her head to the side and he smiled at her, extending his hand in offer. She took it, and he helped her up so that she was standing on his feet, before beginning to dance with her, careful of her injured hand while his strong arms were holding her as he glided along the floor.

_Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper 'I love you'  
Birds singing in the sycamore tree, dream a little dream of me_

They were dancing until the end of the song, and Lord Gamma realized during the middle of the song that he had been gifted with her first actual smile. She wasn't showing teeth, but she was smiling. He'd made her smile. It had taken him more than an entire fortnight, nigh on a month, but he had succeeded. He would ensure her happiness until the end of his days. He knew that with the death of his wife, he didn't have long until he entered the Unbreathing. But he could push his body for a few more decades for his children.

After a second song called 'Cheek to Cheek', which he sang to her with the record, he walked her down the hall, fetching her glass of water. Once she'd drank from it, he walked her to her room and tucked her into bed, murmuring to her in Italian. "Stelle negli occhi, le guance rosse, ed una bambina allegra alla mattina. Stars in the eyes, rosy cheeks, and a happy girl in the morning."

When he started to leave the room, clicking off the light, she broke her silence with a choked noise, before she began struggling to form a word. "P-p-p-p-!"

Lord Gamma whipped around at the sound, as his mute child was finally making noise, and a  _lot of it_.

"P-p…..apa….!"

Lord Gamma dropped the glass of water in shock, and instantly went to her bedside. She had just said her first word, and it had been to call him 'Papa'. He stroked her hair, tucking her back into bed and praising her. He sat in her room all night, giving her the security to sleep, but due to the bed that her brother had built for her, he was unable to sit on her bed like before. But he guarded her all night, seeing the baby dragon in the corner giving him the stink eye and muttering under its breath.

_Ingrate._


	3. They Meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theta meets Arkytior. 
> 
> ....It doesn't quite go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But again, here we are. Now, when it's not in the middle of a dream, the bold font is used to mean someone is speaking only in sign language. Arkytior is now nineteen years old. There are flashbacks, but I put them down so you can tell what time they are.
> 
> Thank you so much.
> 
> Love you all.

_On New Earth, as part of the social restructuring, it was decided to do away with former gender roles and the way it was perceived to be important. The Time Lords found that, while feminine and masculine gender roles were important, so too were the gender roles of having none, having multiple, or otherwise. Thereby, as it was decided that gender was a performance due to one's own personality and feelings rather than a decision based on genitalia, it became a solid rule not to presume any person's gender. Singular 'they' became the most used, until one was corrected thereafter. The ways in which one performed one's gender was no longer permitted to be under critique, and while there were still widespread, trendy ways to perform one's gender no one batted an eye after a generation if another gender performer chose to use those in their performance. Male bodied people ran around New Earth in everything from all forms of jeans, to all forms of skirts, dresses, shorts, skorts, sports equipment, and everything in between. Female bodied people did the same, the make-up aisles in department stores were filled with all sorts of bodies, wearing the stuff every which way imaginable._

_As gender was of little importance, the heteronormative presumptions were also decided to be done away with. As logical creatures, they found homosexual relationships to be no less valid, thereby no one's sexual preferences were presumed. Whosoever ended up with whomever, so it was. There was no need for disappointments, no need for pain, bullying, or divisiveness dependent upon differences. It was social discord, and easily done away with by the Time Lords via a memory adjustment. After a few generations, the pre-Reeve thought processes that were sparked by ancient writings called a Bible, a Torah, or a even a book of Greek Mythos all disappeared from memory, as though they were nothing but a dream._

_While some did not choose to change anything about themselves, the freedom of a society without such a construct permitting many who had been othered or cast out of more rigid societies to take solace there, some who came to New Earth felt their bodies did not concord with their presentation. This was easily taken in hand via a surgical procedure. Due to it being seen as a medical issue, it was treated with all the import of having influenza - just scheduling an appointment, having one's mind read by a Time Lord on staff at a medical center for confirmation, and then the procedure was completed within 5 hours. Life then instantly returned to normal, as all involved in the family's memories were re-adjusted, and the patient's memory of being in any personal pain over it was removed. Old societies and torments were erased._

_Social discord still existed, and there were those who lived in the Waste who disagreed with the joy joy way of having one's memories adjusted to remove pain, but for most… the convenience of not having to endure an excess of unhappiness was worth everything that they lost._

_It's hard to miss something you never had to begin with._

* * *

 

_The beautiful woman smelling of perfumed smoke had long, curly golden hair and sharp blue eyes. She stared down at the girl, her red lips set in a slight smile… but her eyes, oh her eyes they said fucking everything. They said everything that didn't need to be said. They said she was a hunter, and the little girl was nothing but prey to be pecked to death and destroyed… she kept the looks on her face light and barely-there... just the barest hint of amusement that would ensure that her emotions were projected without risking a single line on her face. Her perfect face, oh how she could spend hours, weeks, months, years talking about her perfect face. Her perfect face. She called out an order to two men, and a word glazed along the walls as she said it. She couldn't understand, but she knew that this word was the word for what the men were._

_Then there was the one. Her favorite. Her current favorite._

_She whispered to the girls, hissing at them over the frantic baying of dogs that echoed down the path._

**You are nobody. You are nothing.**

_Arkytior knew it was true, but she still struggled. She felt the hands of the woman stroking her dirty face, rings glistening on her fingers, and suddenly the woman whispered a word and Arkytior felt her entire body freeze up - the woman was controlling her. She choked out, and the woman whispered something in her ear. The instant she got a response, a sore jaw came next, and the feel of teeth grinding as she was punched in the jaw by the Favorite, for daring to speak._

**I will remove your ability to ever speak without my permission again.**

_The rest of her was held down, throbbing with pain from the last beating. The woman gripped the girls' hair, yanking until the Other let out a cry of pain. Arkytior couldn't make a sound, the pain in her throat stopping any noise…. or maybe it was food… no. No it couldn't be. They were only given the food after the dogs were done. Always, after the dogs were done. The dogs always picked things mostly clean, so the girls had grinds on their teeth from struggling to pluck meat from bones and even trying to eat marrow... Maybe she was cursed._

**Your hair is the color of filth. You are nobody. Nothing. Nothing but filth.**

_No!_

_She fought to say words, struggled so hard to be defiant. She wouldn't die like the rest of them… their bones littered the entirety of this crevasse - she would be remembered. She would hurt the woman just as she had been hurt, she_ _**would** _ _! She had no hope of surviving, but the Other needed to! The shape of the previous favorite stared at Arkytior as she thrashed against the handcuffs in a way that the Other never did, his expression twisted to one of pain, he always looked at her in pain until the woman touched him. Then his face went remarkably clear._

_She began to play with her necklace in order to calm herself, a silver medallion with a small pocket of glass in the middle. It held red blood in it, and Arkytior knew it was how she controlled the Huntsman. Huntsman, that was what he was. He serviced, he found, he hunted. He could not fight blood control - no one could. The prick of her being cut by a needle for the woman to steal more blood to control her with made her let out a snarling noise, combating the spell._

**This one's heart is fiery. The other's is weak.**

_SISTER! The word came and went so quickly, and it held no meaning for her._

_They left the two of them alone, in their silence, the cell door swinging shut with a violent sounding clang. There was a strange voice in between the girls' ears, informing them over and over again of the woman's cruel words, the smoke clogging their senses, as it was made for. She felt empty and too big at the same time, feeling like she was meant for more than this._

**You are nobody. You are nothing. Filthy, you are filth.**

_No. No I'm not. No I'm not._

**You are nothing. You don't even have a name, you piece of refuse.**

_My Papa says I'm beautiful._

_The words scraped along the air, and she could see the entire frame of her nightmare shattering like a mirror. She covered her eyes, turning away from it as it broke, and she suddenly felt a hand in hers. She knew that hand…. she knew every single line by now. It was him, the one that was meant to be with her. He would visit her dreams, and the woman who tormented her in her nightmares was frightened of him. She could hear the woman howling in rage, and suddenly she wasn't in danger anymore. She was still there… wherever she was, but she was alone now, save for him. She wasn't in chains… she was on a bed, in what looked like a dormitory._

_She blinked a bit, feeling him behind her as he slowly drew his middle fingernail up her arm, making all sorts of nerve clusters she never knew one could have in their arms active. Despite the goosebumps, she bit her bottom lip, always thankful that he seemed to know her in these… dreams. She never had to speak._

" _You_ _ **don't**_ _have to speak… but you never even_ _ **try**_ _to talk to me, Beloved. A man might become… distressed, thinking he has earned your scorn so soon…" he spoke these words as he left open-mouthed kisses along her neck, and she shivered as she noticed she was only in a thin, silk dressing gown - one she did not herself own. She'd never dreamt of owning one like this, what sort of fantasy_ _ **was this**_ _, anyhow?_

" _Perhaps this comes from my_ _ **own**_ _fantasies…" he whispered against the skin of the back of her shoulder, after pulling the loosened robe from it. "Perhaps it is what I desire you in when I taste you… and I_ _ **will**_ _taste you…"_

_He nosed up the side of her neck, breathing heavily against her, before drawing a breath, taking in her scent. He smirked against her skin, opening his mouth and running his fangs along her jugular, making her fingers twitch. She wanted him to do it. Some deep, dark part of her wanted to give herself over._

" _I know you do… and I will..."_

_She let out a choked noise, struggling to make her mouth work to say something, anything… he smirked a bit against her skin, his hand moulding along her side, feeling every curve of her figure before gripping her hip and pulling her back against his chest._

" _I will taste you…._ _ **everywhere**_ _…"_

_His hand slid between her thighs as he spoke these words against her skin, and he cupped her most intimate part, pressing his cool palm down, before his middle finger slowly slid between the lips to trace her warmth-_

* * *

 

She jolted awake to the sound of her alarm with a loud gasp, her back arched a bit as she swore she could still feel…. she covered her face with both hands to hide from even herself. Her alarm continued blaring, the sound of Lycanthrope (one of the local New London bands) playing their latest song, called Conversion. Her alarm's vid screen popped up, showing the official video in response to her shocked awakening, lead singer Martha Jones rolling her hair and dancing as she went between the growling screamo tones and actual rock singing.

_What be this beast here that lies deep asleep right in the heart of me?_

_They say I'm not the person that I used to be but I don't know what's changed me_

_Today (today) it feels right to let go of everything I know_

_Release (release) the reins and just let it go (go go)_

_And I can't take this pain I'm holding back the storm_

_But can you tell me what we're fighting for_

_And why am I to blame? I've been here before_

_But can you tell me what we're fighting for_

Arkytior danced a bit to the beat as she clicked her tablet, selecting her school uniform for the day before selecting the pop-up. Sarah Jane, asking what she wanted for breakfast. She smiled, clicking her choice, and tried not to re-imagine the feel of that man's hand on her-  _agh!_  - then went back to selecting from her closet. The clothing came out, and she began to get dressed, stomach roiling for the day. She didn't think she could handle all of this. Nineteen years old, decidedly  _not_  a baby, she was going to do something extremely important and she would be dignified,  _dammit_.

This was the day.  _The_  day. She'd finally get to meet her older brother. She'd been waiting over a decade to even speak to him. A few times she'd attempted speech into the phone when she'd known he was on the other end, but she had been met with such a strong response - "Arkytior,  _ **NO.**_ You mustn't!" - that she'd never tried again after her Papa had given her such a stricken, horrified glance. As though speaking to Theta would cause everything to go out of order with his academics, or something. She wasn't going to  _break him_  or anything, honest! She'd just been curious!

Who could blame her, really? Perhaps everyone. She didn't know. But her Papa had been too terrified to even allow them to see each other when he'd gone to the Academy to drop something off for his son. He'd refused to allow her to accompany him, even to stay in the car.

She grabbed her breakfast, taking a quick bite before running off like she always did, knowing that right after school was Theta's graduation. She was getting out early after her Pre-Reeve test (not before, she thought sourly) and going to ride in the limousine with Braxiatel and Donna to attend. Donna promised to bring her a dress to change into if she wanted, but Arkytior declined, figuring that if her older brother - for whom education was so important that he couldn't be bothered with Family until they were finished- could see her in her St. Omega's Honors Society blazer, he would instantly be proud of her and see how she'd worked so hard to belong in the Family.

With that thought in her head, she began to use her flashcard application to go over her Charms facts after sliding into the back of the limousine. Chauncey, the chauffeur, shut her in tight and began to drive off. She was so nervous, she was cracking her fingers over and over again, even though they didn't crack anymore after the first time. Oh! Wait! Theta! She had to keep up, or else he'd be disappointed she'd fallen behind.

Now…  _When was the first Charm used on New Earth?_

* * *

 

_Past - a few weeks after Braxiatel's marriage_

The beautiful spires of St. Omega's School for the Gifted rose up out of the horizon like a castle, which made little Arkytior's heart flutter. It was like in a fable her Papa would read to her! The Time Lord who owned the school was a direct descendant of Omega Himself, blessed be His Name. The Headmaster of the School was Ian Chesterton, a man who was kind, but only to his students, and only behind closed doors. To others, he appeared to be nigh on smarmy, a bit drunk on his own power. Truth be told, he just missed being a teacher. He was a follower of the Black Guardian himself because Omega had believed in Total Chaos Theory and the randomness of the Universe all adding up no matter which way you sliced it. Due to this, Mr. Chesterton and all other followers of Omega followed the Black Guardian as well. Arkytior's mother, the Grand Lady Arkytior, had been a devout follower of his craft; thereby it only made sense for Lord Gamma to take her to this school for tested entry. As was written in the brochure, they accepted all forms of non-Time Lord creatures, provided they passed Gifted Tests. If they were found to be un-Gifted in the slightest, they were refused and sent down to Olde London Memorial School District. In Lord Gamma's opinion, the thought of this was not even to be born. His daughter was already special due to her soul mark…. certainly there must be something major she was destined for.

They sat in the car for a few moments, and his daughter held his hand tightly, frightened beyond measure. She was in an empire waisted midnight blue dress that had tulle underneath the knee-length skirt in order to make it fan out about her more. It was sleeveless, but she had a glittery black cardigan on over it, and opaque black nylons on, with shiny midnight blue ballet flats that had a large bow on the toe part. She'd loved holding the shoes while Donna did her hair carefully, putting it into a complicated braid that went around her head like a crown. Afterward, Donna had kissed her forehead and whispered, "You look like a real Time Tot now."

Sarah Jane had called her 'all gussied up!', which she had more than blinked at. The word issue was dropped, though, as she was given a bit of breakfast. Sarah Jane often complained that Arkytior ate 'like a bird!' and that she needed to fatten her up a bit. Arkytior still had a piece of toast in her other hand as she sat in the limousine, toast which was pulled from her hand the instant her Papa saw it.

"We mustn't eat outside of the kitchen, piccolina. People will think you are undignified."

She still hadn't said a word since that night a week ago, when she'd called out to her Papa for help. Despite all of the praise and encouragement, she just hadn't been able to force it out of herself. The attempts were exhausting, and eventually, the Family simply stopped trying. She'd felt guilt, which her Papa had soothed away as best he could, insisting that they weren't disappointed in her in the slightest.

Chauncey opened the door for the both of them, and extended his hand out to guide her onto the sidewalk safely. As she was marched up the stairs, she noticed how hard the marble stairs appeared. They flashed into another set of stairs made of crumbling concrete, covered in slime and filth from other creatures who worshipped Her. They flashed back to the marble as Lord Gamma wrapped his arm about her shoulders and murmured, "Where are you at, piccolina? You must pay attention. You could crack your head open like an egg with these steps."

As they entered the hall, they could see that the style remained in a medieval sort of fashion - the walls were deep grey cement bricks, ancient paintings and tapestries covering the bare parts. She could see names on each painting, but she couldn't read any of them. Lord Omega's painting was all over the place, including a fresco of him done in the sitting room between the bathrooms. She reached out to touch a spear on the wall, but her Papa grabbed her wrist before she could, murmuring something about 'dangerous', and 'sharp!'. Looking down at the marble floors, the intricate and elegant designs making her eyes follow the linework. It was a shade of rose pink along the outside of the square, ivory on the inside, and black and green lime knotwork across the inner parts, and she wanted to dance on that floor.

There were a few tapestries, all of different colors, none of them truly matching each other until the patterns began to click together - they were all from the same country, within the same time period - and the way they put the halls together made her think of the story her Papa had told her the night before, about twelve princesses who went dancing. Speaking of twelve, a set of twelve girls all in the exact same uniform, in two straight lines, walked down the hall toward them. They all swayed their hips with a rhythmic form of sensuality, not a single movement made by one that wasn't exactly mirrored by the others. They all looked exactly the same. She looked up at her Papa confusedly, until he murmured "Hydra. The girls are all one creature - the Hydra. She will change back into herself at will."

One of the girls glanced down at Arkytior, the deep red of her eyes assessing her before continuing on out of the room toward the Great Hall. Each girl stepped over a man laying on the ground - or at least one who appeared to be a man. The tail he had looked like a bovine, and so did his head. Her Papa told her that he was a young Minotaur-Human mix, likely come about through violent means. But, he assured her that when the human DNA was mixed in, the Minotaur's rage could be quelled enough to make one a contributing member of society.

The only things that truly broke the ancient form of Earth feel to it was the fact that technology was everywhere - from everyone using tablets and cellulars, to the use of music players by students trying to sneak past the professors. The use of hologram technology in the classrooms as the students were able to get a more in-depth look in anatomy, charms, chemistry, potions, Potential-moulding…. it was all there, thanks to the Time Lords, who oversaw everything.

Arkytior saw this in the classrooms, and as her Papa gently squeezed her shoulder, he told her that soon she'd be able to read, and thereby have her own Pamphlet. She'd learn the rules, especially those that would apply to her personally and nobody else in the entire cosmos. For the one thing there was a distinct manner in which it would protect her and guide her in her life, but for another - and he felt this on every fatherly level - it was a stepping stone of growth. Her first genuine hurdle… and he didn't think he was ready for it.

She was walked into an office that was decorated in ebony wood while the Headmaster stood in an elegant all-black business suit that was worn often by those who devoutly followed Omega (Blessed be His Name). Gamma's wife only wore all black as well.

Ian Chesterton wasn't a Time Lord, but a special human who could move objects with his mind. A boy who was already in his office, being chastened for doing something wrong, turned and looked at Arkytior. He shot a spitball at her, which stopped in midair, 3 inches in front of her face, before dropping to the floor. Mr. Chesterton gave the boy a glare, and hissed, "I have given you enough of a warning, Mr. Beaupre. To the corner with you."

The boy stuck out his tongue at Arkytior, making Lord Gamma's eyes flash dangerously.

"Now," Mr. Chesterton's voice rumbled, and he waved his hand. The boy screeched, sliding across the floor and up into the air, just barely below the ceiling, nose and toes in the corner. He grunted a bit, sounding like he was in pain. Mr. Chesterton didn't even look at him, but responded to him just the same. "Fighting will do you no good, Mr. Beaupre. My abilities by far outclass your own."

The boy finally stopped grunting, and just stayed in the air as Mr. Chesterton read from a file. "Your daughter, Lord Gamma, is here for testing? Excellent. It shall begin in a few moments. Should take no longer than three hours. Are you ready, Young Miss?"

She blinked at him, and Mr. Chesterton raised an eyebrow.

"You will answer when you are spoken to."

"My daughter is mute." Lord Gamma's voice rumbled from his chest in a way that was threatening without being overt.

"Allow me to offer a de-hurtful retraction." The casual give-and-take of the conversation made it easy to tell that Ian Chesterton, while careful, was not too terribly threatened.

"Indeed it is accepted."

* * *

 

_Present day_

Arkytior stood on the steps of St. Omega's, remembering her Papa telling her that the steps could crack her head like an egg. She always stood on them just so, making double certain not to stumble in her sleek black mary janes. The high ceilinged hallways still looked like they did when she'd first arrived for testing, and she rubbed her palms absently on her red cardigan with the St. Omega's patch on it. She would change into her Honors Blazer soon, but she was so nervous on her brother's special day that she was frightened of getting it messy - Sarah Jane's faerie dust, Matches' scales, her own clumsiness… anything could make it messy and make her a disappointment. She'd worked hard all of her life with the Family to ensure she was never a reason for them to be ashamed of her. She wasn't Family, not really - but she deeply wanted to be. No one ever told her she wasn't, but sometimes she could feel it; being treated differently because she was human. Sometimes people thought Papa was crazy for keeping her.

Her hair was down in a wavy blonde bob, a far cry from the dark brown her hair had been as a child. Too many healing and watch charms, it had permanently lightened her hair when she was younger. She gasped a bit when someone grabbed her arm, but saw it was only Amelia. The redhead waved at her before informing her that she was headed to Charms Club for the afternoon, as she had no further classes for the day. Arkytior nodded in response, not needing to tell her where she was headed as it had been all she had been able to talk about for the past few months. Honestly, she wasn't certain how Amelia hadn't smothered her with a pillow or something. She resigned herself to her fate as the eternally  _annoying_  younger sister who tried to impress everyone, then headed outside, walking past Charlotte and making it to the sidewalk.

Chauncey bowed at her, smiling softly as he opened the back door of the limousine.

"Good afternoon, Young Miss. Are you prepared to go to the Graduation Ceremony at the Academy?"

She nodded, biting her bottom lip and smiling. The back of the limo was quieter, a gentle jazzy form of classical music playing to calm her nerves after a day spent immersed in the surf-roar of girl chatter in the hallways, boy-shouts about what they were doing and often times, mocking others; and the agender gossips moving stealthily along amid the squeals of those who'd caught sight of the new androgyne making their way toward Potions. Catcalls from the recently pubescent, laughter from the unimpressed, groans from those about to take a test, and shrieks of the mixture of age groups… St. Omega's had it all. It was also a blessed change from her professor, who today had candyfloss lips and a strange arrangement of green hair that was popular in the galaxy she was from. A guest lecturer, and one it was difficult to pay attention to, if Arkytior was honest. But her Papa would be disappointed if she slacked off in the school he paid so much for her to attend, so she strove for excellence.

Arkytior had few friends at the school - she was a bit shy, but had an iron will when it came down to things. Never quite sure of herself, but always up for an adventure. It was a unique mix. When one knew how to speak with her properly, they would find her to be quite candid and humorous. Her best friend was Amelia Pond, who understood her better than other people possibly could. Amelia's close second in her life was a girl named Ace who most people believed didn't  _belong_  with the crowd at St. Omega's, but Arkytior knew better. Ace's only problem was that she occasionally ran off at the mouth, but you just had to forgive her when she did that. She never wore makeup, and always looked somewhat like something the cat dragged in - in pure defiance of St. Omega's rules of appearance, and her grandmother's hard-set rules of propriety. Ace was just the sort who hated looking like anything. She once wrote an entire essay on why her gender performance could be described as 'eh.'

But back to Theta. Her own little mystery from childhood about to be solved. She was dying. She should stop thinking about it.

...Okay,  _okay_ , she couldn't do that. Braxiatel insisted he'd sent multiple letters to him all about her, but when she'd asked if Theta had written back, the subject was always changed. As a child she'd simply believed that Theta was non-loquacious. If she needed someone to harangue, Mickey Smith was always available after school to go on and on about Martha Jones, the rock goddess of his dreams - insert eyeroll here, because she'd stay a dream if Micks didn't actually open his gob and say a word to her - so maybe Theta was just quiet. She could understand quiet.

She oft wondered if mayhap he was simply not of the habit to speak outside of his ken. Or maybe…. no. Her Papa would surely have told her if his second child had cause to dislike her.

... _Right?_

Her phone chimed with a message, and she clicked it, seeing it was a vid message from Amelia about some boy she'd met at Charms Club who was super adorable, who tried really hard to play charades! Arkytior grinned widely, not noticing the limo stopping to pick up Donna and Braxiatel until she heard the grunts of her sister in law, swollen with her first child, struggling in via help from Chauncey and Brax. Donna had gone in a few months prior to the Looms, a medical company that ensured that she was fertilized with a perfect embryo, their choice of sex (they'd chosen a girl), and it had made them so happy. Arkytior thought it was romantic, them going in, creating a perfect little life of their own with her nose, and Brax's hairline… it was the most precious thing. Apparently, before the Looms, there had been children who died during childhood, or people who couldn't have babies at all!

Speaking of her sister in law, Donna was already rough and tumble, but pregnant Donna was a force to be reckoned with. She was sniping angrily about her clothing not fitting whatsoever, and Braxiatel just gently rubbed her back.

"It's all your bloody  _fault_!"

"Of course it is, my darling. I apologize most profusely."

"You're  _such an asshole!_ "

"That is indeed the embodiment of me, darling. I am most fortunate to have you to even me out."

Arkytior's lips twitched, and she waved her hand to catch Brax's attention, before asking where Papa was. He smiled, and responded that he was already there, having had business to attend to directly beforehand.

Ho-kay…. she could do this.

* * *

 

_Past - post testing_

"Sir? Lord Gamma?"

Her Papa glanced up at Mr. Chesterton's assistant, who stood there holding a tablet with the results of his daughter's testing. The woman bit her lip, rubbing the back of one calf with the top of her opposite foot.

"The results then?"

"Indeed. With your Lordship's permission, I will reveal the results?" At his nod and Brax's eager look, she clicked her tablet. "At first, the girl appeared to be completely ordinary. She was unable to move objects with her mind, her telepathic fields were regulatory, abilities for creation of life from nothing were not present… but when she took the test for the premonition ability, she appeared to score perfect."

Lord Gamma's eyebrows raised. "Appeared?"

"She could not repeat these results when the materials changed. It led to a new line of thinking."

"Is she extraordinary or not?!" Brax's voice cut across the room, his annoyance clear. His Father glowered at him, silencing his son instantly.

"She was unable to repeat her excellent score when the tablet was no longer present, only the cards. When tested, she turned out to be very extraordinary indeed. She has a high, high Potential."

Both Time Lords breathed a sigh of relief, and across town, the ginger Time Lady did the same before finishing folding Arkytior's clothing with Sarah Jane.

"Her Potential is also very rare, exceedingly so. We shall have to go about teaching her very carefully."

"How do you mean?" Lord Gamma was proud at first, but now he was concerned.

"Well, Sire, you may have noticed that the child does not speak." At Braxiatel's sour glance, she continued. "You have made the fact that there is some prior trauma clear to us in order that we should be gentle enough to her; however… there may be another reason behind her mutism."

"This would have to do with her Potential?"

"Yes. She is a Technopath, Sire."

"Technopath?!" Braxiatel sat up, his eyebrows drawn in confusion. "As in… able to control technology?"

"Yes. Anything made of metal and wires, plastic and wires… Any form of technology can be controlled by her. Which leads to the reason she is less likely to speak. Most Technopaths are less likely to seek bonds or communications with other humans. They feel drawn to technology, so they seek out communication with technology over humans. You combine that with what she may have already gone through and you may have a lifetime handicap, I'm afraid."

Lord Gamma nodded slowly. "I have already accepted this. But… with regards to the technopathy…"

"We can teach her to control it. Just be certain to discourage any friendships we'd label… 'imaginary friendships'. A mobile phone is not her friend. It is not sentient. But she may wish to bond with it, may feel it is easier to communicate with. Sentient technology is excessively rare, thereby it is best to attempt to create communication with her fellow beings. In order to combat that, we suggest signing classes. We have a few students who have issues with communication, so signing has become a class of import. All of our professors speak it fluently enough to sign as they speak."

Lord Gamma raised an elegant eyebrow before murmuring, "I would like a signing tutor at the manor, one sent by you. I would have them there daily for an hour or greater."

"Indeed, Sire. We shall send Barbara. We shall need to sign paperwork as well…"

"Of course…. are there others at this institution who use sign?"

"Mhm. Amelia Pond, she came to us from a planet taken over by Cybermen. Poor thing was caught too close to an explosion, and by the time we reached her, there was nothing we could do to fix her hearing. It was completely obliterated. Her parents were killed in the blast, she lives with her Aunt here on New Earth."

Lord Gamma nodded, silently, but the woman continued.

"The only other one is a young girl named Charlotte. Her Potential is the Sight, she can see into the future. The poor thing was from a different Universe, one wherein it was thought to be witchcraft, against their god. It made her gift scattered, sire. She was seeing so many images of the upcoming war, so many atrocities that it frightened her. She was but Arkytior's age."

At a clearing of the throat, the assistant ran off to make better use of her time, Headmaster Chesterton giving an impassive look, before raising an eyebrow.

"Such a gossip, that one. I told her before to leave these things to her superiors. Charlotte does use sign, but one must sign into her hands. In order to fight the visions, she stabbed herself in the eyes, trying to rip them out. It simply made the visions more powerful. But Charlotte understands how it is to be unable to communicate, so she speaks fluent sign. If one responds to her with their voice, she can understand. Or, as Sabre often does, signs against the palm of her hand. Charlotte is the tutor for signing."

Lord Gamma was frightened for a moment, but held himself outwardly as in control. His daughter could never feel alone or afraid with her gift. He wouldn't permit it. As he looked at his son, he knew he was in good company.

* * *

 

_Present Day_

Arkytior looked down at her phone, a new Paperthin, by Pear. She was waiting for Papa to finish speaking to Theta before the Ceremony. Graduation was so important, and Theta would be receiving seventy four certificates, and an advanced honors degree in intergalactic policy and leadership. She knew her Papa was proud of his son no matter what, but Braxiatel constantly harped on his brother, even and especially in the lengthy letters he wrote, insisting that Theta could do better if only he would put his nose to the grindstone. No wonder the man had a preoccupation.

But apparently, 'fucking off' was preferable to 'slaving away', if Braxiatel's side of the conversation was anything to go by... not that she would ever eavesdrop, she only read one text. Just the one.

Really.

Okay, she couldn't help it, she was curious! She wasn't certain she bought into this whole 'he's private' thing. Not when he seemed to always be yelling when speaking to Braxiatel. She could glance over her shoulder and see Brax on his Paperthin, reading messages she couldn't read (as they were in Gallifreyan), but they were all-capsed. It often made her wrinkle her nose. Her Papa was from Gallifrei, a small town in Southern Italy from Earth. While they spoke Italian due to the reunification, Gallifreyan was a form of dialect - dialetto - that Papa had never permitted her to know. He said it was for Time Lords Only. She knew he didn't mean she wasn't Family…. but...

...She wasn't Family.

She was Family enough, at any rate. Papa had been so good to her. The entire Family had taken lessons from Barbara, and became so fluent in New London Sign Language, or NLSL, that they used it while speaking, at damn near the exact same speed as their speech patterns. Papa still encouraged her to speak as much as she could, but she had finally been able to describe to him what it felt like to try to speak, and he had understood.

**Like… (pause, scratching her head) like maybe an apple stuck in my throat.**

He'd still looked at her with as much pride as possible to feel when she would do things like sign her speeches in front of a class, or even sign her book report to him before turning it in the next day. Sarah Jane had insisted she was so expressive in her face, and that was why signing truly worked for her. It was more beautiful than if she had spoken anyway, the faerie insisted, because she truly spoke with her eyes, she gave full expression with every sign and body movement.

She would try to read to him from books just the same, stuttering her way along and honestly feeling like a braying jackass with the way she couldn't seem to get a fucking word out. She would try, but it felt like things took hours. Papa was always so calm with her, able to relax her enough that the stutter would ease a bit, but it was still ever-present. She read to him just the same, and he would tell her about slight Family affairs, allowing her to give him her thoughts.

_My little consigliere._

My little advisor. She would tell him about her day with as much stuttered speech as she could manage until the headache set in, and then she would switch to NLSL. She read him entire novels in NLSL, starting from back when she first learned to read "The Very Hungry Caterpillar from Krion 6" to "War and Peace in the Velpulon Galactic Republic", he was always happy to take time from his busy day and spend quality time with her. He also never missed a chance to dance with her at their celebrations. While she couldn't dance on his feet anymore, he always made her feel like a little girl in a tutu and a tiara again, spinning on the dance floor. He and Brax had made her childhood magical, and she just wanted to share it with her other brother, too.

"Arkytior," Brax called, softly. She glanced up at him, and he moved his hands gently, showing the fact he was whispering as much as it was heard. "Where is Father? He should be back by now."

 **I don't know.** She pursed her lips as she swiped her hand along her forehead before aiming her thumb behind her toward the upstairs of a dormitory building and scrunching her nose, showing a bit of pluck to it…. or, as her NLSL professor she had this year for extra vocabulary building (growing children needed growing vocabularies, lest they sound like children!) called it… 'being a smart ass.'

Her brother gave her a long suffering look.

**Maybe my mysterious brother has stage fright?**

She made a sarcastic gasp face as she finished signing it, earning a snicker from Donna. Braxiatel hmphed a bit, waving the thought away casually in mid-air.

"Maybe, just maybe," Donna muttered, "Neither of those males comprehend the feeling of a  _baby on someone's bladder_."

"Arkytior, I shall escort Donna to the restroom. Stay here, shall?"

 **Where could I go?** There was that lip purse again, drawn down eyebrows over-expressing her point.  **I know! Gallifrey!**

Brax scowled, and she grinned, before acquiescing.  **I promise. I'm just going to check messages from Amelia.**

He nodded in satisfaction, then headed out with Donna as she stood by McCrimmon. She clicked her vid message, watching as Amelia's hands moved, shocked to the teeth about what she was reading. Still going on about the dishy guy. Dishy?! She clicked on the download button, seeing the photo of Amelia and the guy… well... okay, not dishy, but dishy to her…

She typed a message back, that seemed enthusiastic. After all, just because he didn't chime  _her_  bells didn't mean he didn't look like an adorable puppy next to Amelia. Messaged back. Personality. Personality was definitely good. He couldn't speak NLSL, but he wrote her notes back and forth, and did a funny version of charades to explain himself. Okay, that was precious. He'd invited her to the Samhain party! Even better! R.o.r.y. W.i.l.l.i.a.m.s.

Hn, that was a nice name, at least. Finally, Amelia would have a  _date!_

….Of course Arkytior was disallowed to date  _ever_ , according to Papa and Brax  _both_ , so there went the double date idea right out the window. Maybe she could invite Micks and listen to him wax poetic about Martha.

…... _Noooooooooooottttttt._

* * *

_Past --_

It had been after a nightmare.

Arkytior had toddled as fast as her legs would carry her, making Lord Gamma sit up in his red leather chair as she entered, huffing and whimpering over her nightmare. Matches was quick on her heels, looking up at Lord Gamma and beginning the growl and snarl, waving his clawed hands and pointing at her repeatedly. Lord Gamma, of course, didn't understand a peep, and merely raised an eyebrow. The dragon slapped his palm against his face, running it down slowly and gripping his own chin with a groan of mixed frustration and disapproval.

Arkytior sobbed a bit, trying to express without the ability to use words just how frightened she was. Worse, she'd been scared further than before by feeling like someone was near her, poking around… looking for her. She could feel it just like she could feel the dogs. This didn't feel threatening, except that it did. It felt scary, and she held her Papa's hand, shaking it a bit as the light glinted off her tearstained cheeks.

Trying to make him understand.

He set his whiskey and calf down before reaching for her other hand to help her up when he saw it - the golden glint. Instantly he was yanking her sleeve up, seeing the word and he was afraid. Terrified. He hadn't seen the scar yet, instantly lifted her up and inhaling by her neck deeply. He couldn't smell anyone else on her, no one had touched her that wasn't accounted for… his terror reigned itself in for a moment. He'd been so afraid of what vampire instinct could do… the Tots were separated from their older counterparts for this reason…. the older Time Lord would need that blood so much… Lord Gamma had only heard of atrocities committed by other vampyric strains. He didn't dare think of what could happen to his daughter. Or what that would do to him, to lose her that way. What sort of monster would he become in his seeking of justice? What would Braxiatel become?

He would ensure that anyone who laid hands on his precious girl would die screaming.

Holding her in his arms protectively, he ran down the hall, beating a fist on his son's door. Braxiatel exited a moment later, seeing his father running down the hallway. So much commotion followed in the Manor as he watched his father pacing, holding his little sister in his arms like cradling an infant. A trusted Family member who had heard of Gamma's troubles had promised to look into it, the issue of Arkytior. That was who Gamma had dialed, an interesting move based on the fact that they were not Lungbarrow. But Lord Delta was, at the very least, in the highest life debt and loyalist to Quencessetianobayolocaturgrathadadeyyilungbarrowmas, Gamma's father, now a member of the Unbreathing, but still ever so around. Delta had heard Gamma's panic, and had never known him to be so overtly bothered.

Delta came in as Braxiatel hovered, Donna keeping out of the room with Sarah Jane… eavesdropping by using a cup.

"Who have you brought to my household?!" Lord Gamma demanded, his fear making the predator in him a bit triggerhappy.

"Someone you've been looking for, my oldest friend," Delta murmured, carefully. "May I present Andredaselus, the Time Lord who mated a human a few centuries prior?"

Andred stood there, looking up at Lord Gamma. He was a man whose Potential was settled, and he felt no fear from the Lord. Gamma was instantly relieved, but on edge at the same time. "You mated a human… she was a child while you were an adult Time Lord?"

"Yes," the brunette Time Lord responded, his waves in his hair appearing wild, but his manner was ever so proper. He was definitely the silent type. "My mate's name is Leela."

"My daughter… they have spoken to her."

"What?!" Delta and Andred both spoke the word at the same time, and they approached, checking Gamma's words. Andred, under Gamma's hawk like stare, lifted the girl's wrist and saw the golden word.

"He could not have been here in her presence… for she is still alive. I have seen…. horrifying things. She would be drained of blood, and he… he would be a monster for what his instincts called him to do to her body while driven mad by bloodlust."

"Did you…?" The unspoken question was heavy in the air.

"I never. But still, I was a monster. Leela was sixt when I had broken the rules. I was alone, in exile, for my crime of deception…" As Andred mentioned it, Lord Gamma realized he had heard of Andred before - the man had been mistaken for a spy and put in exile for a century - and yet had come out of things very… easily. Oddly easily, as Time Lords were such social creatures.

His mate.

"I scratched a message into my own arm, to be found on my body because I felt the Unbreathing coming for me… but the instant I did that, I knew I'd marked her. I could feel it. I was in a panic, but had no one to contact," Andred said these words slowly, reliving the pain of attempting suicide.

Braxiatel, from across the room, flinched hard, thinking about Theta. Lord, he couldn't be feeling that, could he?! Had he known?! Donna's calming presence was in his mind, sending waves of comfort as he felt the piercing guilt and mentally berated himself. He hadn't answered Theta's calls in weeks, out of anger at the way the younger Time Lord had been acting, the nasty things he had to say about Arkytior, the not coming to his wedding…. combined with his freshly wedded bliss and disapproval of creating the bond so soon… it was all Braxiatel could do to hide it from Father and watch Arkytior's every move in case she became mad.

"I began to feel her… I knew where she was. I could sense her in space, I could feel it. I stayed on the outer edges of her dreams, becoming more and more eager to pierce the veil between us and touch her. I couldn't see her, but I knew her. Suddenly, one night… I did it. The veil was pierced, and while I couldn't see her, I could touch her. Smell her scent. Taste her skin. I was able to take her in dreams, do everything to her I wanted to… and humans are so, so  **responsive**."

Lord Gamma held his daughter tighter, trying to cover her ears. The look on his face was thunderous, and when Andred opened his mouth to snarl over his emotions overrunning him, Arkytior let out a screech, struggling into her Papa's embrace.

"Donna!" snapped Lord Gamma, and Braxiatel's wife came in instantly, taking Arkytior out of his arms and walking out with her. She struggled in a way only a young child could, doing everything from wiggling every limb she had, to turning herself into this liquidy deadweight, so difficult for Donna to carry.

"P-p-p-p-p!"

"Arkytior, do not fight so!" Brax protested from across the room.

"B….B….B…. baaa!"

She had everyone's rapt attention, and even Donna nearly dropped her as she made the sheep noise. She baahed another three or four times, sounding strangled.

"Baa-s-s-s-siiii!"

Brax crossed the room quickly and lifted her up, holding her tightly. "Precious girl, this subject is too advanced for you. We shall be inside here for but a handful of minutes. Then we shall come get you. I promise."

"P…..p….p…."

"I, as well," Her Papa promised.

She relaxed as Donna carried her out of the room, and Andred continued, after an apology.

"The problem was that I knew her. I knew her scent, her taste, her feeling, her curves…. I knew her. Everything a predator needs to know to find his prey… and the instant I was removed from exile… I had noticed that it hadn't taken long before I was being driven mad by our being apart," Andred shook his head. "But I had hunted her, like an animal. The instant I smelled her, I was ready to take her. My body was poised, I was prepared the instant I smelled her in the vicinity. Her first words to me were 'let go of me!', because I couldn't control my need. But then she cut herself on her own knife in her urge to remove it and use it on me…"

Lord Gamma watched the Time Lord, as he looked down. "What occurred?"

The words were heavy, Lord Gamma terrified of his daughter's fate. He wouldn't allow it. He couldn't.

"I was a monster. Blinded by bloodlust, I tried to feed from her. She was fierce, she stabbed me in the jugular and left. Smart girl. Clever girl. How I earned her back is my own business, however, My Lord."

Gamma nodded, while Braxiatel was breathing heavily, nearing the first panic attack of his life out of fear for his brother and sister. Would his brother become a monster? Would he harm Arkytior? Had Braxiatel contributed to this fate by ceasing contact?! Braxiatel bit his index knuckle, excusing himself.

When the Lords took their leave, his Father held onto Arkytior again, stroking her hair as he put her to bed. The instant she fell asleep, he looked at Matches.

"If anyone who does not belong in this house tries to enter this room, Matches, you attack them. You attack them in the most vile, evil, horrific way you can think of. You be creative, you scaled monster," he murmured firmly, yet affectionately.

Matches growled a bit, and made a motion with his clawed little hands, the motion obviously inferring to a male's genitalia. Lord Gamma raised an elegant eyebrow, before nodding in affirmative. Matches suddenly let out a slight growl/purr noise, rubbing his hands together deviously and releasing a hissing laugh reminiscent of Muttley, a dog from a cartoon back on Earth, owned by one Dick Dastardly.

Oh well. The little creature was happy, and as the thoughts of torturing the genitals of whichever Time Lord was to be mated with his precious girl ran through Matches' mind, smoke curled out of his nose as he maintained a fanged grin, turning around three times before laying down on at the foot of her bed. He curled up like a dog, but his golden eyed stare pierced the dark like glowsticks, and the damn near demonic turn of his mouth was enough to even bother Gamma. His girl would be safe with the creature, and for that, he felt safe enough to exit.

As soon as he closed the door, his entire posture changed. He stomped, angrily, walking through the manor and ignoring his eldest son. Braxiatel was shuffling quickly to match pace with his father, who began muttering in Gallifreyan, insisting that he was going to find the Time Lord himself and rip him to shreds.

"Father… Father please!"

"You would have me not?! You would permit this?!"

"Father, I know who it is-"

"You know?! Tell me of this…. this stronzito… I will have his innards for-"

"It's Theta, Father."

"-and his kidney… what?!"

"It's Theta."

"...WHAT?!"

The shout sound created a few things, instantaneously. One, Sarah Jane dropped a plate, shattering it. Two, the Brigadier came out of his own room, even though he was off-hours, with a pistol drawn. Three, the sound of Arkytior crying came from down the hall, and Matches stomped out of the room, claws crossed over his chest, giving the Time Lords an unimpressed stare. He growled in annoyance, waving his hand toward the room in a sweeping motion, both eyebrow ridges moving in a way that clearly said 'You clean up your own mess, buddy.'

Gamma didn't hesitate for a moment, going back to his daughter's room and picking her up like a baby again, holding her head against his shoulder and kissing the top of her head. Oh, how he loved the tops of all of his children's heads. That was the part of their bodies where they truly kept their smell. Their smell that didn't change from babytime forward. Anytime he needed to truly reminisce, remember his children as children…. top of the head. It always gave him a moisture problem in his ocular region, but alas…. it was a father thing. He rocked her gently, murmuring soothing words until she slept in his arms.

Finally, Gamma spoke, in a soft whisper that woke up Matches, whose pissed off golden eye gave a 'fucking REALLY?!' sort of tone to him. "Theta…. are you certain?"

"I am. Theta told me the story before I discovered it on Arkytior. He carved into his own arm, thinking she was under attack. He can likely name every atrocity committed against her august person."

Gamma hissed out a breath, the thought of his son suffering so in silence…. and his daughter suffering until she struggled against silence…. it was hard not to feel responsible.

"We shall save Theta from himself…. we shall keep him from Arkytior."

"Keep him from her?"

"Indeed. Inform him that he is disallowed to come home for holidays until he graduates."

Brax clicked his tongue, lightly. "Shouldn't be a problem. He detests Arkytior."

Gamma's lips twitched in amusement. "Detests her? Surely you jest. However can he detest a child he has never met?"

"He feels jealousy. You know how mother's existence in the Unbreathing has taken its toll…"

"...and her last words were of concern for Arkytior…. silly, stupid boy…. so young. So much growing to do."

Brax nodded. "We could use it to our advantage. If he cannot leave Academy grounds, then he cannot hunt her, no matter how desperate he becomes."

Gamma nodded, slowly. "But we cannot keep them apart for eternity. He will come home after Graduation…"

"We must have the two of them meet on neutral ground…. in ways we can control."

A new voice intervened. "What about Graduation? So many of you Time Lords in one space, Theta will be powerless compared to so many members of Family."

Sarah Jane, ever so clever. The idea was brilliant, and so it was.

After all had gone, Gamma stroked his daughter's hair and whispered into her ear. "Your mummy made the right choice with you…. now, above all else… you will stay my daughter forever, and remain eternally within my household. What greater gift, than to not have to lose such a daughter?"

and with that he left, while Matches growled under the covers.

* * *

 

_\- Present day - Academy Graduation Ceremony_

Arkytior was being escorted to the stands, looking around at all of the Time Lords who were graduating in the Arena. They were marching in a line, looking professional and elegant at the same time. They were separated by specialization, wearing elegant Gallifreyan robes of different colors by their studies, and the high collars and occasional skullcaps made for quite a bit of pomp and circumstance.

Papa was holding her hand especially tightly. He seemed far more concerned with her well-being than usual, now that she thought about it. Usually, when they left the house, it was only with the Brigadier and McCrimmon, but… Trigger and C'rizz were there too. Their eyes remained on her, not on Donna, as they should be… after all, Donna was the one who was  _pregnant_. Arkytior held onto her Papa's hand, looking out at the other Time Lords. They didn't have problems with her, not like when she was little… why should there be a risk now?

As she watched the Lords walk, she began to look at some of the male-bodied ones, seeing quite a few attractive ones, and her Father finally released her hand, although he seemed reluctant. Oh well, he'd allowed her to walk along the seats so she could see everything she wanted to, Trigger and C'rizz following her every move. What were they so  _worried_  about?! She was in a purely Family environment, there were Peacekeepers on site just in case of any Discord… she looked down at the Graduates, smiling a bit. It was all just an entertaining show for her, and she tried to squash the disappointment that she would never make her Papa proud of her for graduating the Academy like Theta and Braxiatel had.

Suddenly, the set of Lords wearing gold came along, moving with elegant grace that reminded her of the Hydra. Two of the Lords, however, had extra swagger as they moved. Arkytior saw the one with the deadly smirk on his face, but the one next to him truly caught her eye. He had messy, devil-may-care brown hair and an intense look of concentration on his face, and he almost looked paranoid for a moment. Arkytior was consumed by him for a second… he almost looked like… she closed her eyes and inhaled as a flash of her dream came to her mind, the feeling of him stroking her sides, and then his hand slid between her legs…

" _Give yourself to me…"_

She gasped, eyes flashing open as she felt herself becoming aroused. God, not around her  _family_ , eughhhh… that was a total buzzkill right  _there_ … as she looked back out for the man, she could see him staring around, his lips twitching in a near snarl. His friend lost the smirk as he grabbed the man's shoulder, trying to calm him, but it didn't look easy. His chest heaved as he sucked in air, other Lords around him speaking to him, attempting to calm him, but he was nearing ravenous.

_Over a decade. Over a decade._

The words repeated in his mind until he suddenly locked eyes with Arkytior. She inhaled deeply, eyes widening as she could feel him. Her vision went tunneled, and she could see him right in front of her. Not behind - not anymore. He reached out to her, to touch her hand…. she swayed a bit, being instantly caught by Trigger as the vision disappeared and all that was left was the man being shoved forward by his classmates. He hadn't moved, he hadn't gone near her…. he had merely stopped his marching, highly undignified of him. Trig's voice clamored in her ear, the cacophony of other's voices coming in like a freight train.

"Milady! Milady, are you all right?!"

"This is not going as planned!"

"Fucking Theta," hissed McCrimmon.

"Remove her, remove her now!" there was Brax.

She was gently taken out of the stadium, Gamma insisting that she be removed back to the limousine, that he would attend to her in a moment. He still wanted to watch his son graduate, still needed to see his son achieve what he'd spent two centuries on.

His son, on the other hand, was ready to rip through people to get to his mate, struggling to keep it together. Koschei, his best friend, was stroking his shoulder, trying to calm him down. The soothing words were for very little though, as Theta's fangs flashed in the light, gritting his teeth so hard to keep himself from running over to those stands, finding her. Throwing her on the grating and taking her in front of everyone - he didn't care. He didn't. fucking.  _care_. He would make her his in front of all - his Family, even. That pathetic little bitch who sucked eagerly at the teat of his Family fortune would get a good fucking eyeful of why she was being disinherited. For a  _real_  woman.

Not some pathetic human.

He clenched his hand on his leg, the nails digging into his skin very firmly. He couldn't draw blood, but oh how he wanted t- and there it was. The release, the popping of his skin on his thigh giving way to the crimson blood. He sat that way during the entire ceremony, and the length of the ceremony made his patience wear so thin, so razor  _thin_ …. looking around as he was accepting his awards, he couldn't see her. He could sense her… why was she so far away?! His fury began to climb - someone was  _keeping her from him_ … they would pay for it.

After the ceremony, his father came to him, clapping him gently on the back. He spoke to him in Gallifreyan, insisting that the entire Family was so proud of him. Theta's lip curled, he wasn't himself. It was obvious to Gamma that time was of the essence - but he wasn't going to allow his son to become a monster, one trapped, forced by his killer instincts. He wasn't going to allow his daughter to be sullied, either. He could hear his son's thoughts clear as a bell

- _need her blood need her blood need it want it want her going to take -_

and he kept himself as composed as possible, telling his eldest and his wife to go and help Theta to fetch his bags while Gamma went with the Brigadier and McCrimmon to secure the car. If they could calm him down, slowly…. he could see her. If they could not… it would be a very miserable time for Theta indeed as he would be locked in his room until he came to his senses.

The only problem was that Arkytior was not at the car at all.

* * *

 

_Past_

 

"Come now, piccolina," Papa gently rubbed her back, trying to calm her.

 

She shook her head, and started stuttering. It was an especially bad stutter, for she was extremely upset. "I-I-I-I-I-I-I…. I….I d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-..." her hands were trembling. Finally, at Papa's gentle insistence, she began signing.  **I... met…** she paused here to angrily wipe away the silent tears. **A… well. Maybe not friend.**

 

"Not friend, piccolina?" as Papa Gamma spoke, he signed a bit awkwardly because they were still becoming used to signing while speaking, or even signing at all. Braxiatel had written Theta with his father's orders to become proficient in the language for his sister. Barbara had told them that when it came to names or personal nicknames, they could make their own signs for them based on a letter or sign that had something to do with it. Papa used the sign for the letter 'p" in the motion of the word 'candy' by the face to signify 'piccolina'. Arkytior's name sign was the letter 'A' gently hitting one's left, then right cheekbone. When done properly, it would flip along the nose the way the sign would, when done in an 'r' letter shape, be done for 'rose'.

 

Earlier that day in her class - her first one with people who actually spoke/heard properly, which made her frightened to her toenails - she'd been asked to introduce herself with a two minute talk about herself. The class was then told that she was deaf (which she wasn't, and she'd corrected that. She wasn't deaf, Amelia Pond was deaf! She was Arkytior of Lungbarrow! She was simply mute!) and after that was cleared up, she'd wondered if she'd looked foolish. Her identity was just very important to her, even at a young age. She needed people to know who she was, because she'd almost died as nobody.

 

She'd taken a few minutes to breathe, because she wasn't used to doing things off the cuff. She and Amelia were in the same classes, and in each of the six classes, three per day, would be one of six girls who would interpret for them. There needed to be one per hour because interpreting was exhausting, and the speed couldn't be kept up without the switching between girls. After the first week, the girls began going in pairs of two to two classes, so they could switch more frequently, or one could stick with one girl and the other with the other as needed - sometimes Arkytior would need to read an essay while Amelia needed to understand what was being said around her, and so on.

 

The interpreter right now, Elizabeth Shaw, smiled a bit as she stood by Arkytior, signing as she spoke so Amelia was always in the conversation, watching Arkytior's uncertain, unpracticed hands.

 

"Hm, I'm not…. I'm not really sure what to say," she interpreted, calmly. "Maybe ask me a question….?"

 

One of the boys raised his hand. When called upon, he questioned, "What does your name mean?"

 

"Umm," Liz continued. "Arkytior is Gallifreyan for 'Rose', like the flower. See this sign? Like smelling a flower."

 

Amelia grinned from the audience.

 

A girl raised her hand. "Why is your sign for your name different than the sign for 'rose' if they mean the same thing?"

 

"Hmm, good question!" Liz interpreted. She watched Arkytior again, and continued speaking while the girl nervously inhaled and exhaled, trying to come out with it. Amelia sent her a big smile of encouragement, one she tremulously returned, before she did as her Papa was always telling her and slowed down. She often felt like she stuttered with her hands like she did with her mouth, but she closed her eyes and began signing again.

 

"Because it's my name. Papa says that Amelia means 'industrious', but we don't call her 'Industrious', we call her 'Amelia'. Same thing, I think."

 

She was able to return to her seat, and Amelia clapped her on the back with a smile, before going up herself. From that point on, the ability to express herself, declare herself as there and present became absolutely important to her. She would never be invisible again.

* * *

_Present day_

 

Theta was up in his room with his brother and new sister in law, who sat on the chair by his desk and thrummed her fingers on her stomach.

"Are you just going to sit there? I was under the impression exercise was vital for one in your condition." Theta snapped, his control overriding his mouth.

"You calling me fat?" Donna deadpanned, an eyebrow raised in challenge.

Apparently, there was enough 'Danger, Will Robinson!' left in Theta Sigma Lungbarrow to make him sputter a bit. "Wh-what? No! I would never!"

"Yep. You're callin' me fat. Gonna have to die now, nothin ta do 'bout it." Donna was still deadpanning, not even glancing up from the magazine she was looking at.

"Indeed not!" Theta snapped. "I have always found fecund women to be of a particularly attractive rotundedness…"

Brax blinked, before rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Theta…. just stop talking…"

"Well, my rotund arse is leaving, before my brother in law forces me onto a treadmill or something. Me n' baby beluga'll be out in the ca-"

"No, my love, please, do not allow him to ruin your mood!"

"Fuck, I'm sorry okay?! I'm having a bit of a fucking day here, all right?! I found her. I felt her…. she's finally here. You've been telling me to keep calm for so, so long. But now is the end of those days… and I. Am. The. Reaper."

"Arkytior-"

"Don't. Don't you bring up that spoiled little bitch, NOT TODAY, IRVING."

"Ooooh, I'm staying  _now_." Donna snapped, reaching through the desk and finding a sharp pen. "Don't you talk bout Rosie like that!"

"Calling me by my first name. Mature. But you must maintain your head, Theta. There is something you do not know, we couldn't tell you…. Arkytior-"

"I still can't believe you gave that creature my mother's name. Apparently you forgot loyalty to your own mother, but let me tell you something right this fucking instant."

"Theta!"

"I don't care about her. I don't care about the letters you sent me all about her - I read the section on yourself and Donna, I read about Father, but I ripped hers to shreds. I saw you attached photos of her growing up. I ripped those too without even looking at her. She. Means. Nothing. To. Me."

"Theta Sigma, for the Founder's sake! Be reasonable, for once in your very existence-"

"You're about to be down a brother, at this rate," Donna muttered. "This room is about to become a crime scene-"

"Don't you  _threaten me_ , this fight is not with you!" Theta railed, bringing Braxiatel into his face.

"Do  _not_  raise your voice to  _my wife_ -"

"Then don't you bring that little spoiled, selfish cow into this discussion! I will return home, and when I do, Father can go into the Unbreathing with Mother. I shall take over the house, and you had better believe that…. that little  _human_  is disinherited!  _STARTING NOW!_ "

"I will perform a  _living autopsy on you_ , with  _this pen-_ "

"Theta, you are being irrational, your instincts have taken over, you are combative. You cannot allow the bellicose to override you. Father will have your hide if you so much as frown at Arkytio-"

"Do not even breathe her name near me," Theta said acidly. "Arkytior. Arkytior. Little Miss Arkytior of Lungbarrow. The little fucking  _human_ , the undeserving  _human_ , and I have thought of her often during my time away. I have seen how you have chosen her over me…. and I  _hate her_  with every piece of my being. I hate her with both of my hearts, and the blackness in my  _soul_."

He stomped away from Brax, snapping something about going to the car, but when he threw open the door, he could see her. It was….  _her_. Soft blonde hair, cognac eyes… her scent…. and just as he was about the launch himself at her, the order of her scent arranged itself properly in his nostrils. Her cognac eyes were filled with tears, her face was red… she wasn't coming to him in a state of arousal. She was  _upset_.

His instincts stuttered a bit, changing to protective. Someone had  _harmed her!_  But she suddenly spoke and his entire being rearranged itself again.

"Y-y-y-y-ou… y-...you're…. m-m-m- _mean!_ "

The words burned into his wrist and he hissed as he felt it, suddenly his entire being calmed his instincts as he realized that he had somehow hurt his soulmate so deeply… he hadn't even spoken to her… had she heard him speaking about his stepsister and thought him cruel?!

"Arkytior!" Braxiatel called out, pushing a stung Theta aside as he reached to touch her cheek.

The pieces suddenly fell into place rather quickly, and flashes of every conversation he'd had with his brother painted a horrifying picture for him. He'd been so blind…. he reached for his mate, to beg her to forgive him, bestow upon him some kindness that he had never given her, but she shook her head at him, sobbing.

"Y-y-y-ou….. h-h…. hate….ful…." she choked out the words, and her hands suddenly did all of her talking for her, before she ran down the stairs in tears, Braxiatel calling after her and chasing her, after giving Theta a long look.

Both of Theta's hearts had crashed in his chest, all thoughts of sex, blood, or violence gone with the wind. He sank to the floor onto his knees, too weak to hold himself up. She'd denied him, she'd left him… called him  _hateful_ … and she was right. He was unworthy of her love. Just last night he'd teased her about her scorning him…. but he had earned it. His life was meaningless now, in these moments. The darkness of the depression consuming him felt like an anchor, pulling him down toward the abyss. He'd heard tales of Time Lords spurned by their Beloveds who had sank into a depression that was deadly.

Now he could feel it. It wasn't overdramatic. It was damning.

"You speak sign, then?"

Donna's voice pulled him upwards for air, for a moment. He shook his head slowly.

"Mmmn. You didn't learn it because Brax asked you over Arkytior, hmm?"

He didn't need to respond.

"She signed that she never wants to see you again."

There it was. The roar of sound in his ears was his blood, rushing. He had to earn her back. He had to be forgiven. He would do  _anything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys very much for sticking with me.
> 
> <3


	4. Homecoming, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath, along with Theta finally coming home to the Manor, for what it's worth. Theta/Gamma heavy, some past fill in. As for Theta, currently he is channeling Peter Vincent very heavily, and has for a long time --leather trousers, eyeliner, cursing and some Midori and cigars. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all.
> 
> I've been unbearably busy and without internet. My job got moved to a new city a couple of hours away, and so I, too, had to move a couple of hours away. I was given 2 weeks. So I had to to end a lease, move to a new city into a new apartment, and figure out a new city? Without internet?
> 
> Omfg, I was so spent. I had to even switch my phone service, omg, that killed me lmao. But I got my wife and I here, settled in, new apartment (the dog was not a fan at first, but it's growing on her.) it's all amazing and brilliant and hoh my gosh, gonna kill me. But here's the chapter I should have posted a while ago. I'm so sorry you lot waited. You did it patiently! 
> 
> Thank you for all the kind comments in reviews, and thank you for the kind asks at my tumblr! 
> 
> You guys gave me life when I felt like I couldn't keep doing the thing bc moving was exhausting. Thank you.
> 
> This chapter will be Theta/Gamma heavy, the next one will be Theta/Arkytior heavy! It fills in a bit of Theta's history, which you lot asked about.
> 
> When it comes to the sign language, it won't exactly match any sort in real life because Time Lords created this form of signing, thereby it's able to communicate differently, and translate more effectively. That's why I'm being a bit nebulous about it.

_There were many assumptions for how Time Lords had come to be, and very few of them correct in any way, shape, or form. The humans always came up with the best ideas, because they were some of the least learned races in the Multiverse (at the time) but oh… their imaginations were so BIG. They were creative, and so many of them imagined so many worlds that when Gamma was younger, he'd imagined that every human being held a multiverse inside of their own minds, that each thing they read, watched, experienced, felt, loved, and even bitterly hated became a brand new universe for them, each emotion became an alternate universe they could visit, if only just to brood on what should be, could be, was not._

_One of Gamma's favorites, as a child, was to hear of Time Lords called by different names - vampyr, bloodsucker (excuse you, kind sir, but those with class refer to it as borrowing), nosferatu, demon... it was even told that they were soulless as well. They'd been cursed by a demon, and thereby had to wander eternity alone, unable to touch the sun's rays, unable to enjoy food or drink, seeking their soulmate._

_While a beautifully romanticized tale, it sounded quite torturous to Gamma. He often wondered if many humans thought that they were worthy of such a person, should they exist. Such a person capable of dealing with the worst of self torment, all in order to find the one person meant for them. Gamma had certainly never felt worthy of such a love himself. He was a creature of flaws, and he'd certainly been a creature of flaws when he'd met his Arkytior. Her first words to him still remained on his wrist, keeping him humble all those years even though since her passing, the words had changed to black. She'd made him better. Made him work for it. To be worthy of such a wife. Even young, she was still everything he'd needed, and they'd grown into each other in ways he held hopes for Arkytior and Theta so doing._

_A father could hope._

_Their kind were known across the galaxies as the romancers. Everyone envisioned being with them in every which way, some of them quite filthy, if Gamma said so himself. Honestly, who would bite a woman on her- alas, he digressed, for he knew of quite a few in the House Declan who would gladly partake of such savagery. When it came to a Time Lord, they often stated that to be loved by a Time Lord was enough for any creature lucky enough to experience it._

_What was meant by that wasn't that they were kinder, or even gentler lovers, or anything in between. It was simply the fact that when they mated, they gained a mental bond, and a physical bond that left no barriers between the two._

_For a human being, it might seem severely invasive - one who was not raised to believe that their mind could become a form of community property might feel nervous. They might feel like their privacy was constantly being invaded until they learned the important things, such as shielding._

_Arkytior had been learning from her Papa Gamma and Braxiatel how to deal with telepathy from a young age, being groomed and taught slowly. It had begun with showing her stories and beautiful memories, but then had moved forward until she could shield with the best of them._

_His little honor student. Theta should know, based on the many letters sent to him in his absence from the Family, that she was well learned where she could be. Certain things had come with more difficulty, but for the most part, his childe was well rounded. Theta might think that because of his being a Time Lord and her being a human, that he might have a one up on her, mentally._

_Well._

_Theta was about to learn that she was an excellent student in that, too._

* * *

 

" _Irving! Irving, wait wait! No run! Feta love you!"_

His son Theta's voice when he was a tiny Time Tot was dancing around his mind, jumbled memories moving from their compartments as he was looking about in a panic.

" _Mummy, mummy! Irving not share!"_

" _I was too! I just was sharing with the waves instead of with Theta!"_

" _Precision of language, Irving!" The Grand Lady Arkytior's voice called. "You cannot share with waves, for they are not living beings!"_

His children, that day at the beach... his life with his sons and his wife could have been told in beaches. Now, he would give anything not to hear the tides. Gamma could hear the sound of water rushing in his ears, the blood thundering in his head as he couldn't find his daughter, not even a good trace of her in the car.

She was gone.

She didn't even know the danger,  _of course_  she didn't!

He hadn't  _told_  her!

He'd been so frightened of scaring her, it had been why he'd demanded that Andred come back and ask her in ways only he himself would know, whether or not Theta had broken through that veil and come to her, whether he'd known her... Gamma had begun to wonder when Arkytior had stopped coming to him, complaining of nightmares... but he'd never suspected...

Perhaps Theta had told her  _not_  to tell.

Of course he had. His son was a sneak. This person his son had become was nothing like the man he'd known. The one he'd been so proud to hold up.

He didn't know this man at all, he realized.

He'd pushed his son so far off in order to protect the both of them that he'd allowed this creature to be created. His son was a predator now, the likes of which he didn't know anymore.

So how could he help?

* * *

 

_Past_

It had been a perfect day.

They were at the Family villa, with a bunch of cousins, aunts, uncles… their kind was always surrounded by Family, hence the capitalization. It was built like they had been on the Old Earth, the terracotta colored walls, the ancient style roofs, the cobblestone paths, the vineyard nearby with the stonework sheds. There was even an old style maintenance truck parked and left unused in front of the shed, chickens running about and bustling after people who they thought might have food. A cow mooed in the distance, and the deep thwuck-click of the workers cutting grape bunches echoed in the ears of Time Lords nearby.

This villa was so close to the beach, it was a small walk away. The breeze gently swayed the foliage all around, and moved his wife's hair like a lover's caress.

He was relaxed that day, in ways that he hadn't been in centuries. She looked as radiant as ever, a somewhat physically older, yes, but still so much the woman he'd fallen in love with as an untried boy struggling to impress the village girl with his brand new bicycle. She smiled at him, wearing a soft, long sleeved, scoop neck shirt with navy stripes across it, which made her white slacks look that much brighter. Her sunglasses were being used as a headband, and she was smiling that smile of hers up at her brother, Iota. The two were laughing over nothing, and Iota poured her a fresh goblet of dark wine, it was often joked about that the Grand Lady Arkytior and Lord Iota both preferred their wine so dark that it was pitch black. 'You could see a skull and crossbones come out of the bottle once uncorked!'

"Gamma! Get over here, try this new harvest!"

He didn't trust her brother's tastebuds for a damn minute.

He took a sip anyhow, because his wife's beguiling smile always painted the word 'jackass' across his forehead, and choked instantly; feeling the burn in his nasal passages.

"Oh  _che schifo_! Someone didn't wash their feet before crushing those grapes!"

The two laughed at his expense, and he passed the goblet back, hearing his youngest son laughing with his cousins - Koschei of House Yana, and Corsair of House Dvoratrelundar.

Always welcome guests.

Theta was shaking his head at Corsair's playing of the acoustic guitar, as the young Time Lord made an absolute shambles of a popular song on the JRadio.

"I'd love to see  _you_  try it, Koschei!"

Koschei excelled at the guitar, something well known by everyone in the Family, and no one outside of it. The Time Lord took the guitar, revelling in the instrument for a moment, and he began to play a song everyone knew well. Gamma's wife sat up straighter, always basking in her youngest child's singing, when given the chance. Family members began to dance to the music, finding that whether it was in Suditalia - from where they hailed - or here on New Earth… they were still always so themselves when surrounded by Family, music, food, and dancing. Laughter, wine, and smoking always followed.

The long picnic style tables became covered with plated foods added by older women in the Family, Sarah Jane having stated plainly that she was in no damn way cooking for over 400 people. Time Lords or no, she'd insinuated that he could go fare sesso con  _himself_ , and he wasn't too thrilled by the insubordination but… well, he didn't want to argue with her when she got like that, was all.

" _Terra di brava gente terra di tradizioni_

_Terra di troppo silenzio e troppe processioni."_

He grinned at his son, while standing next to his other one, who was finally glancing up from his book to watch the scene his cousins were making. Braxiatel and Corsair were quite close, and to be honest, Gamma felt it was a good thing. His son was a gentle spirit, and often introverted himself. Corsair often forced him out of the little storage bin he'd rather hide himself in, and through that friendship, Braxiatel permitted himself fun, and mayhap a mite of mischief.

" _Terra ch'è buona d'amare terra ch'è buona da odiare_

_Terra che tutto sommato è sempre l'ora di cantare…"_

He pulled his wife's back against his front and simply lost himself in the smell of her hair and the feel of her against him. He would never forget the scent of her - amber oil, she wore it and only it on the daily. Holding her and watching his family, he didn't miss that Koschei's little sister Lucille was chasing around the Time Tots who were smaller than she with a sheep's eye on the end of her fork, shouting,  _'Eat it! Eat it!'_  which put her father on her tail pretty quickly.

" _Bella nella sua lira orgogliosa nella battente_

_Suona dolce nel cuore della gente."_

Theta danced while he sang, and Koschei moved along in dance-like movement while he played, Corsair already dragging Braxiatel by force out onto the designated dancefloor. Braxiatel made quite a huff, and Corsair kept telling him to adjust the stick up his arse or else it'd replace his spinal column. Gamma couldn't imagine a more perfect day, chuckling with his wife as he lit his cigar and puffed on it with ease, grinning around it even as Theta made funny faces in Brax's general direction, and danced like nobody was watching.

He finished the song by dancing and singing with his mother, the center of his entire universe. That boy was a Mamma's Boy through and through, but Gamma held no doubt that there was plenty of space there for him. He and Theta had always been close as well, just on a slightly lower tier than Arkytior held.

" _Terra pazza io ti lascio sta canzone…"_

His son and his best friends took their bows with smiles, and they were applauded before the music started up again, people dancing in their ancient dances, giant pots of pasta coming along, cheesewheels the size of wagon wheels, more vino, and a few bags of type O for those who needed sustenance of a different sort. Time Lords could sup and drink to their hearts content, but these things never truly fed them - only Borrowing did. But based on their heritage, most Family agreed that to partake of this slaked a thirst of a different sort - it fed their hearts and souls.

_Crazy land, I leave you this song..._

* * *

 

" _Arkytior!"_

The sound of her being called after sounded too far off to her. It was like when she took a bath. She loved to sink under the water completely, see how long she could stand to open her eyes, and pretend she was some underwater princess of the deep. Because of that, though, Sarah Jane would often get cross with her, because she couldn't quite hear the yelling. It sounded muffled, like the way Arkytior's voice always felt in her chest. Like it was there, somewhere, knocking about, waiting excitedly to be unlocked.

It felt like holding her breath for a very long time.

_Inhale, exhale._

_Inhale, exhale._

She'd been inhaling all her life. There  _was_  no exhalation.

Running, running, she was running. Usually she was better at breathing when she ran, but she couldn't do that in her emotional state. This scene was so familiar to her brain that her feet just picked up and went, if she were honest. Just run, run, run. Run to Papa, he'll make all the nightmares go away. Even daymares. Even people she didn't want to see. If she said she was too upset, he would make anyone leave, even the Magistrate.

She couldn't concentrate, continuing down until she hit the final flight of steps and suddenly it went through her - the charge. Peacekeepers were on site for some reason, and everyone in the building was suddenly frozen as it moved through them, unable to even twitch.  _This is important,_  her mind told her. The mauve alarms were flashing through the building, something was going on that was an emergency.

_What's wrong?_

This was Time Lord grounds. Everywhere on the planet was controlled by them, yes… but this was one of the places that they were  _en masse_. There shouldn't be a  _thing_  out of control or out of place. Time Lords were above that sort of savagery. It was the humans you had to worry about, with their strange urges, and their savage backgrounds. They were baser creatures, they were wont to things such as fighting, stealing, killing, hurting. These things took forever to breed out of a populace, hence why the Time Lords, their kindest of benefactors, had to work extra hard and be extra vigilant.

To save the humans, and the other creatures, from themselves.

It must have been a non-Time Lord, causing problems.

_As they were wont to do._

Arkytior's mind was in panic mode, and she closed her eyes, able to see the layout of the building in her mind - every piece of tech inside of the building. She could feel them all, from tablets, to phones, to music players, to vid screens. Each one had its own particular charge, and there had been many a time when she'd gotten in trouble for accidentally making friends with them, these things that she didn't need to speak to communicate with at all. But now, she could see the pulses of the electricity moving through the wires, and with a blink of her eyes, the security system shut off, just for her. Everyone else was still stuck, and they were with a purpose.

She felt afraid, so they had to stay put.

She wasn't watching where she was running as she made it down the last of the steps, and ended up tripping over the last three steps, earning her a bruise in the middle of her shin and a bit of a tweak to her ankle, but nothing that adrenaline allowed her to feel for the moment.

She made it out the front door of the dormitory, and was stopped instantly by Peacekeepers, a long file of them running in, the leader calling out, "Search and seizure! Search and seizure! Missing Family member reported, perceived danger level at 97.9822%!"

"Show me your identity bracelet!" the Peacekeeper in front of Arkytior snapped, holding out his code reader.

She was still upset, and her Potential sparked about her, the slight shimmer near her fingers showing that she'd recently used her ability. Those disappeared once someone's Potential had been fully reached, a sort of settling of one's abilities in their bodies. Until then, there was always a sign, and the Peacekeeper in front of her, whose nametag said Tau, scanned her bracelet's code, and a hologram popped up of her face, her information in Gallifreyan running across it.

Tau swore, and called into his comm chip. "The target has been found, repeat, target has been  _found_. Search and seizure to be called off unless contraband in plain sight."

She stared up at him, eyes red, knowing she looked ridiculous. She worried about shaming her Family for a moment, appearing in public - solely Family public - looking like a worn out dishrag.

"Had the whole of the campus out of their minds with concern for your health and safety. Lord Lungbarrow was in quite a state of dismay," Peacekeeper Tau murmured, trying to be kind about it. "Come with me now. I shall escort you to your Family."

She nodded, signing a  **Yes, sir**  before starting to walk with him.

Braxiatel appeared at her side, taking her arm in his, and tucking it under the crook of his elbow, helping her as she walked slowly to the limousine.

She knew she wouldn't hear his feelings on what had occurred until their Family was alone, and she struggled to maintain dignity, trying to walk with even footsteps. If she were honest, she felt like she'd been barrelled through by the magnetic train that went through the Wastelands to transport workers and materials into the Industrial. Her emotions had hit her harder than they ever had been permitted, and she felt more worn out than she had by most of her nightmares.

It was ironic to her that the man who'd saved her from  _Her_  had said words that had cut her more deeply than anything said by Her  _ever had_.

* * *

 

Gamma was trying to think of anything but his terror for his children. He was trying to keep concentrating on the saving grace thought that his eldest son may be there, preventing his youngest from being injured so grievously, or murdered. The thoughts couldn't stop piling up on each other, of her sobbing, her feeling betrayed, her crying out, whining…. she couldn't even call his  _name_. She couldn't even say  _'Papa'_  in the  _best_  of times…. she hadn't a  _chance_  against Theta's brute strength, and just whose idea had it  _been_ , anyway, to bring her?!

She'd run to him, of  _course_  she had. She'd felt lost for so many years, like this other part of her was calling her, begging her to come forth and feel and know... it hadn't been deep instinct like a Time Lord, thank the Founders for  _that_   _small gift_... but it had been a calling. She'd often signed to him that she felt like someone had been calling her.

He should have known better. He was her father. He should have been able to snap his fingers and save her life.

He'd always thought of human beings as multiverses but she had proven to him that it was true. All of her emotions, she felt them so earnestly, so openly. The good made her entire being lighter, and the bad cut her to the core in ways that Time Lords could compartmentalize away. All of those feelings amazed him, if he were honest, keeping him in constant awe of his daughter's capacity to feel, and to love. Each one had proven to be its own universe inside of her heart, and he'd felt privileged to be a part of it.

Human's experiences were so great because their lives were so short. In their hatred, they could invent a universe in which the person they hated was clearly deserving of such, and was saying and doing abhorrent things against their august person in order to merit such feelings. They could even die brutally. A piano falling out of the sky, an alien spaceship landing on them, a pack of wild minotaurs  _feasting_  on their trodden flesh… it was all about what the human wished. In a universe of lust created by hormones and puberty, one could invent a world wherein anyone was attainable, in  _any_  position.

Even positions that were absolutely  _impossible_.

It didn't  _matter_.

But oh, love. Love was a universe that held so many possibilities. Gamma had thought he'd learned them all through his mate, Arkytior. Surprisingly emotional for a Time Lady (At the  _time_ , breeding emotions out completely was the key to having good breeding at all. Nowadays, on this new planet -in this new  _galaxy_ \- it was merely emotional control) she had never ceased to surprise him. She'd sparked emotions he'd never known existed, and that was part of why her passing into the Unbreathing had made him feel so empty. He'd had to carry on, for their children; and she had given him one last task.

_Little Arkytior._

He could do  _one_  last thing, he  _could;_ he could spread her loving person to one last creature on this planet, he could leave her name to pass on to one more person. It had given him purpose, more so than to simply fade into the Unbreathing and nevermore know existence the same way.

Mayhap Arkytior could tether Theta, such as the Grand Lady Arkytior had kept Gamma humble.

His son was wild with rebellion, rebuking all that made him Family in the best of times, but being a sardonic ass sipping that  _ridiculous_  firewater in  _those_  trousers the rest of the time. Braxiatel said he looked like a jaded magician.

Apropos.

* * *

 

When she made it back to the area where her Family was, she leaned more heavily on her brother. She didn't know where the rest of everyone else had gone, but due to the amount of gentleness her life had taken after she'd been adopted, it felt like she was walking away from a war, scarred and frightened. Everything in her life felt like it was in disarray, and she only wanted to see her Papa again and have him explain to her how to set it right.

To say that Gamma was in a state of dismay was really low-balling it. She'd never seen him in such a state before. His outer posture appeared only somewhat composed as he was pacing, and his eyes looked damn near wild.

The only thoughts coming from him were of his children. His babies. They were adults, but they were his babies. His mind was struggling to compartmentalize the pain he simply knew he would experience for allowing his daughter out of his sight. He shouldn't have allowed her out of his sight for an instant… he needed to compartmentalize, because he wasn't certain how else he would be able to handle seeing his daughter broken…. whether killed, or otherwise.

A thought of horror flashed in his mind as he could imagine his eldest son carrying her limp, blood drained form. He didn't know that he could take care of the monster his son would be in his eyes for the rest of eternity.

He sent a prayer up to Rassilon, begging for his children. Begging for their souls, begging for everything to be all right.

One of the Peacekeepers was scanning through Gamma's mobile gallery, seeing photos of the Lungbarrows until he accidentally clicked a video.

* * *

 

" _All right, all right. Come along, piccolina. You can say it. One word."_

_Gamma's eyes snapped to his mobile, but he made no move to turn it off, or snatch it from the Peacekeeper._

_Seven year old Arkytior worked on her lip, and breathed heavily. She looked down at the book in her hands, and turned beet red as she tried to coach herself into saying her own name._

" _A…...a….. ak…."_

" _You'd better be filming this, Irving Braxiatel, or I swear I'm shovin' that mobile in your ar-"_

" _Ahr….. k-k-k…. ah…. ahrk…..kee…"_

" _She's doing it, she's doing it! Do you see, Dad?" Donna was flapping her hands in excitement. Quite undignified, but she never really gave a damn about it._

_Gamma clenched his hand so tight he could feel the half-moon grooves on his palm._

" _Kyih….. t…. t-t-t-t-... tyoohr…"_

" _BRAVISSIMA!" Gamma called out, lifting her up into the air and spinning her around while Matches ignored everything, laying on the floor and reading a book. He further proved his feelings when the camera was on him by rolling his eyes skyward and twirling his index claw in the air by his head; the universal announcement of zero fucks given._

* * *

 

The video ended, and the Peacekeeper next to Gamma said nothing, simply handed the mobile back to him. The Peacekeeper felt awkward, having peered into Gamma's life and found something like that. It was too close to the Peacekeeper's own Family life. Gamma just stayed in his one spot, trying to fight the warring emotions, and the way his mind couldn't stop bouncing around from place to place.

It was Braxiatel's voice that made Gamma whip around.

" _Father!_ "

Gamma ran over to his children at once, noting that one was missing, and not caring about the fact that he looked highly improper. His daughter was in a right state, but she wasn't in as bad of one as he'd feared, and oh, had he feared it. But she was still in tears, her face was covered in them; and he could smell clotting blood.

She had a bruise.

"Are you all right?!" he demanded, his own eyes becoming blurry with crimson. He reached up and cupped her face with both hands, staring her in the eyes. "Did he  _touch_  you? Did he hurt you?! How were you injured, bambina, how did you escape?"

"N…." she let out a strange, breathy whine that only came out during the ugly crying as Gamma sniffed deeply by her neck, making her shiver at the tickle of his whiskers. She knew he had to smell, he needed to know. "N-n-n…. not….. t-t-t-t…." the next sound to come out of her sounded painfully frustrated. "T…. tou-uh-uh...ch…."

"Not touch? He didn't touch you?!" Gamma was still inspecting her entire body, but he couldn't smell Theta on her. He removed her blazer and looked all along her arms, glancing down at her legs. She had a bad bruise across her shin that nearly covered the entire front of it. It was the size of a grapefruit.

But Theta didn't appear to have given it to her, which was good.

For  _Theta_.

She was still struggling to speak even more so than usual through her tears. He tapped her on the sides of her temples lightly while staring her in the eyes. "Posso, bambina?" he questioned, asking her, in Italian, for permission.

She nodded, lips trembling, as her father's fingers pressed against her temples and she was suddenly absorbed into a world of black, going limp in his arms.

* * *

 

Gamma was absorbed in his daughter's thoughts, and instantly went towards the center where her emotions were at the highest, pulling sleep from the back of her mind. She went unconscious instantly, into his arms like a little rag doll. He held her up, holding her against his body like he used to when she was just a little thing, and breathed in at the top of her hair. He'd always loved the tops of his children's heads. The smell of his children there was so pure. It went beyond baby lotion, talc, or bubble bath. It went straight into the smell that would always be their smell. Now, her smell was engrossed in her upset. But there wasn't fear, there wasn't terror.

Because of this, he could calmly thumb through her memories like it was a rolodex, pressing the rewind button at his leisure and seeing exactly what she'd seen and felt. She was sleeping, so she wouldn't remember or feel what he was seeing. As he scanned through the memories, he could hear her muttering thoughts about feeling like she was being treated with kid gloves as she was forced into the car over a little fainting spell. He could see her blinking a few times, and then following the pull she had felt ever since she was much younger.

So powerful, now.

She'd made it to Theta's dormitory, and was going to knock on the door when she had heard him and Braxiatel arguing.

His daughter was nothing, if not a curious sort. But the words that she had heard were the words he had feared his son ever saying to her. She'd felt each word like a blow, and had ended up so upset she could barely stand. Her eyes were filled with saline, and she was hardly able to see what Theta even looked like. When the words burned themselves into his son's wrist, Gamma felt pleased.

His son had deserved them, and hopefully they would serve as a harsh reminder of what could be lost when one did not think before one spoke… or, perhaps, judged before even getting to know a child.

Gamma didn't want to choose between his children, but in this case his son was wrong.

As Gamma finished with scanning her thoughts, he gently passed his daughter to her elder brother, who stroked her hair and began to spark her mind, to wake her up.

Theta was being carried by Koschei, and his cousin Corsair. Corsair's actual name was often forgotten as he never answered to it, but he was a Time Lord one could count on, nonetheless. He and Koschei had each taken a side, and were holding onto Theta's arms, carrying him toward the car as he limply attempted to walk. He was simply too weak, being refused as such was enough to severely injure any Time Lord, especially one so youthful. He looked stung, the blood smears down his cheeks from tears unable to be kept at bay. His body was simply ill-prepared for such a blow to his system.

From a human, no less, Gamma thought, a bit snarkily.

Braxiatel didn't help at all, instead watching his brother with his arms crossed over his chest and a cold stare on his face. Most other Family members looked away from the spectacle out of respect for his House, but Ushas was not one of them. She laughed merrily, pointing with other members of her House. She was having a joyous time of it until Lucille hit her in the back of the head, effectively ending the merriment with the sudden inclusion of blood.

Gamma kept his emotions in check, watching his son being put into the limousine, insisting on him and Braxiatel staying on the other side, away from Gamma and Arkytior, who was still recovering from dreaming the beautiful memory her Father had called up.

* * *

 

_Past_

Arkytior was sitting on the ground, looking around.

 _This is a park,_  her Papa had told her.  _This is where we will celebrate your birthday._

She still didn't understand what the hell a birthday was-  _heck, she'd meant heck, honest and true… just in case Sarah Jane could read minds_  - but she knew that she was dressed up  _really_  nicely, nicer than even  _usual_ , and there were  _lots_  of people coming to see her. She hadn't understood for a few weeks of school what it meant that she was dressed nicer. She'd been set straight by Papa Gamma about things though. She was nervous, as was to be expected.

She didn't know if  _anyone_  would be coming, because  _well_ … that was your worry when you held a party,  _wasn't it_? She was dressed in a white tutu dress, the tulle of which went down in an empire waist design, which appeared to be her Papa's favorite. She had little white flowers on the front with rhinestone centers, and it tied around her neck. Her matching ballet shoes were a lot easier to walk in than her normal shoes, which could sometimes be hard because they were so new, and usually made of patent leather. Her headband was made of real diamonds, and held back her wayward, golden curls. Her hair had begun to turn blonde over the last year due to the amount of charms placed on her. At her young age, she'd seen more need for healing charms than most people saw in their lives, but when the doctors scanned her and found her badly healed bones, they'd been forced to re-break then, and then cast healing charms. On top of that, no matter how many healing charms they'd done on her throat and voice box, she still couldn't speak. Her Papa had insisted it was all right, when she'd been crying silently over it. She'd felt like a disappointment, but he hadn't allowed it - he'd told her that she was just  _different_ , that was all.

Not to mention the watchcharms placed on her every night.

By Donna.

There had been some trouble amongst the factions of the Families over the adoption of a human being, no matter how extraordinary, into a Family. Family was Family, after all; the title was hard earned and well-feared. Not even Time Tot adoptions happened by members of Family - the children simply stayed in their factions. They were well cared for, yes; but what Gamma had done was unprecedented.

Family was Family. They'd long since stripped themselves of the names Vampyr, Nosferatu, anything of the sort and simply decided that if they were to win anything, they should ought to band together. Be a Family.

It was exclusionary by definition, and on top of that; the House Lungbarrow was the leader of the Seven. Lord Gamma's opinion, as the eldest member of all Seven households, was unquestionable. It may as well have been the word of Rassilon Himself. The adoption hadn't caused any real issues until after Braxiatel and Donna's wedding. The Time Tots had turned on Arkytior with shocking speed, and the girl had been ill-equipped to do a thing about it. The factions had all fought about it at the next meeting, many good points being brought up.

_Logical points._

A Time Lord was hard pressed when it came to logic refutation. The amount of evidentiary support needed to do so could be mind boggling. Braxiatel and Gamma had spent days in a hard debate against the other Six. The victories had come hard-won, and the losses had been all the more painful. Now, here they were in the beginning of a Family birthday party - Little Arkytior's first.

The House Lungbarrow had all come first, appearing well before the festivities in order to make a meet and greet. Braxiatel was anxious, but Gamma was relieved to see that his faction had at least remained loyal. Distant cousins, fresh faces, they all made an appearance in Arkytior's life for the first time, including her Uncle, her mother's brother Iota. He'd taken a countenance that was less gleeful since his sister's passing, but no less a prankster. Watching her for a few minutes before speaking to her. He'd shown her an interesting toy from the Olde World, and she'd given him her smile.

Gamma was pleased, although he painfully noted that his daughter somehow had her mother's smile anyhow.

He watched happily, a calm about him, as Braxiatel fretted. Braxiatel was young, he couldn't understand the importance of merely having one's own Family about. For the youth it was everything, or a disappointment.

The House Noble came next, making their showing quite obvious. They had made their decision the instant Donna had married into the Lungbarrow line. Gamma enjoyed the Nobles, especially Wilfred, the head of their line. The two enjoyed cigars and poetry together, discussing the world of the Olde while the sunshine lit off their silver hair and white hair, respectively.

" _You're just as old as I, Gamma, why so shirty?"_

" _Old, hah! Stop faffing about, I'm considered a silver fox, I'm told."_

" _Then what the sod am I, with no silver in my hair?"_

" _Old."_

" _Arctic fox, old boy. I was looking for arctic fox."_

The only member of the Noble household Gamma could not stand was Donna's mother.

Some Time Ladies could not enter into the Unbreathing quick enough for his comfort.

The House Foreman came next, run by Suzette and Piers (in that order), and of the pairing it could be said that Piers was an exceptionally jovial androgyne, and their wife Suzette was exceptionally driven. Narry a comedic bone in her body, it was often found strange that she and Piers would have been a good match, but the Universe knew much better than they. Their soul marks were ablaze every time they glanced at each other. They brought with them plenty of Time Tots as well, making Arkytior a bit nervous and confused at the amount of them, all standing by their Families and waiting to be told that they could sit at the table the adults were setting up.

The House Jovanka came fourth, still twenty minutes early. This House was run by Tegan and her mate, Nyssa. Their son Adric was renown as being a mathematical genius, even for being a Time Lord. It was something that made Braxiatel itch a bit, because he always felt as though the boy (who was only two years from Academy as was, he was so young) was analyzing him every which way and found him sorely lacking. They instantly greeted the House Lungbarrow, and no apologies were needed for the harsh debates that had come from their faction. By coming on that day, they were giving themselves over to the possibility of being wrong. They were giving Lord Gamma a chance, based solely on the premise 'What if it were your child, that was so lacking?'

While Four of the Seven was already a majority, the Fifth faction came next, headed by their leader, Romana of House Dvoratrelundar, and she was mateless at the moment. Her parents had gone into the Unbreathing only weeks before, and while they had been nearly violently against the girl, Romana was of a different sort. She'd meant to have graduated with Theta, but due to her parents' inability to hold beyond the Unbreathing, had used a vortex manipulator to bounce back and forth in time - completing her classes at night and ruling the Family during the day. She had simply stepped up and taken on her new role with a grace and self confidence that made Gamma jealous on his son's behalf. Her red hair swished lightly in the wind, and she brought along her younger siblings, still Time Tots themselves.

House Yana came last, headed by Delta and his wife, Seraphim. Their two children, Koschei and his sister Lucille, or Lucy, were well known as being perfect for the faction. House Yana had come under fire multiple times during history for being sneaky, undercutting, and even downright evil. They had bred dictators, toppled governments, and even been known to hunt for sport a few times. This had lead to the Pythia cursing their faction personally with the inability to have a soulmate. But it had been no matter, for there was always a way around anything. Lucille was present today, having taken holiday from Academy. Koschei had remained with Theta, who had insisted that attending the party would be a personal betrayal.

The House Declan chose not to make a showing, due to the affront by their leader, Caroline, and her on-again off-again partner, Cave. Caroline was a scientist at heart, although she had never been known for her morality. She could put aside almost any differences if only in the name of science. Her daughter Ushas was set to take over the House the instant she returned from Academy as well, having remained there longer than she should have in order to earn as many specialties as possible to earn. Caroline couldn't have been prouder, although one might never know it, based on her inability to leave her lab.

Ace and Amelia came together, while Mickey stood awkwardly to the side. He was usually the type to cling to whatever ran past him, his foster mother Jackie would say, but he didn't know how to behave in front of so many Time Lords.

The children all sat down at the table when it was time, and then they surprised even Gamma with what their Families had planned.

All of the Time Tots who were not infantile stopped speaking, and began to use only sign to communicate, in order to show Arkytior that she was really not so different after all.

* * *

 

The limousine ride home was quite an interesting event.

Arkytior was sat next to her Papa, and frowning, staring at her plaid skirt and just keeping to herself. She was humiliated and hurt in so many ways that she just didn't know what to do, and for the first time in a long time in her life, she truly felt her voicelessness. She couldn't yell and scream at Theta, she couldn't tell him what she was worth and why he'd been so wrong, she couldn't even explain her feelings calmly. Because the only ways she had to communicate were with NLSL, which he didn't speak; and with attempting to speak to him, which would take bloody hours and probably sound pathetic. She had nothing left but to prove to him through action that she wasn't having any of his bullshit.

What made her feel more ashamed was that she'd let him touch her intimately once, and had planned on doing so again, only for him to have hated her the entire time.

She felt  _dirty_.

Braxiatel sat next to his brother, but the tension in the car could have been cut with a knife. Even Chauncey wasn't whistling as he usually did.

Braxiatel finally was prompted toward making a comment, glancing at his brother out of the corner of his eye, disdain coloring his voice. "You look  _ridiculous_ , Theta. Sit up. Pretend you've some breeding and know what posture means."

Everyone else in the car was silent, and Theta just stayed in his drawn posture, staring out at nothing for a moment. He then slowly moved his arm (the movement going slow enough that it looked painful) and gave his brother the middle finger, pressed right against his face. Braxiatel rolled his eyes skyward.

Gamma closed his eyes and shook his head, slowly.

_Unbelievable._

"If you shan't sit up proper, shall you at least explain your choice in clothing? I had thought you were going to try to keep an appearance more befitting of an Alpha?"

The middle finger pressed against his cheek again, in a more aggravated manner.

Well. At least Theta was regaining some movement.

"I dress how I please," he muttered, continuing to stare at nothing.

"You look fine," Gamma responded, off-handedly. He'd always wanted his sons to express themselves freely.

"Drop it, Brax. The only reason your brother looks off right now is because he's got raccoon eyes now, along with that cheek blush."

It was true. In his upset, his bloody tears all over his cheeks, and he hadn't been wearing eyeliner that was waterproof.

"An' if he wants to wear them ridiculous trousers, well… that's on him."

"The fuck is wrong with my trousers?! They're just jeans."

"Tight enough to be painted on. I don't need to see your genital contours." Donna snapped.

"It's not my fault, I'm of a girth wherein I find difficulty in achieving a comfortable fit!"

As soon as he'd said that, he knew it was wrong. His father pinched the bridge of his nose, and his soul mate's jaw dropped. She slowly covered her eyes and shook her head, looking away from him. He flinched, and looked away.

He should just  _stop talking_. He couldn't help but to watch her, the way she sat, even when she was ashamed of him. The way she worried her lip.

She was beautiful.

He was a monster.

His father calmly attended to her, patient as ever. He gently tapped her shoulder, and asked, while moving his hands in that language at the same time (just like he'd noticed his entire Family seemed to do…. something that made him feel shockingly left out) if she didn't mind looking at his tablet.

"Piccolina, it has another virus. May you please fix it?"

She smiled up at him, and instantly Theta wanted to be on the receiving end of such a brilliant smile. She had never smiled at him like that… but she could have. He would have to earn her love. He needed it. He was dying to bask in her happiness. He needed to feel.

Just as he was about to ask about why she was being asked to do it instead of the IT idiots that his father paid, she gently took the tablet from Gamma's hand, and spread her fingers above the tablet. She set her palm on it, and suddenly her eyes went glazed, light moving across them as though she were internally processing.

But that was  _crazy_ , right?

He looked up at Brax, who was reading the Financial Times on his own tablet, and Donna was playing Angry Birds. His father calmly lit a cigar, the smell coming off of him something that Theta knew like the back of his hand. It had taken ten years of avoiding his Family to forget the scent, and an instant to remember, like a child. His father's smell of pipe tobacco, spice, and the whiskey and calf. It was such a comforting smell that he couldn't fight against it, for a moment. He allowed himself to bask in its warmth, until he remembered where he was, and whose smell he would never experience again. Then, he hissed, looking only at his soulmate.

She was all that mattered.

She stayed zoned out for a few minutes, absorbed in her own little world. Gamma calmly smoked, staring at his son with piercing eyes. He hated his father's eyes. They stripped you down to your soul.

After a few moments, she stopped, and handed Gamma back his tablet, signing at him quickly. He smiled, watching her explain something to him in thorough detail. The way she expressed each sign... she just... it was such extreme communication. It suited her. She was expressive, but he didn't understand why. She obviously wasn't  _deaf_ , not after hearing what he'd said. She'd spoken to him, but he'd thought that her stuttering was from emotion.

No, no. Lucille had told him that the other Family had learned NLSL, because...

Because Arkytior was mute!

" _You never speak to me..."_

Because she couldn't.

Theta had no idea what was being said, and his Father responded to her with his hands as well, only he didn't speak aloud this time. Theta felt he was being purposefully kept out of the conversation. Watching the language was so interesting for him. Different hand movements and positions, accompanied with different facial expressions. The eyebrows moved with many of the movements, eyes wide, eyes narrowed, eyes silly… the way their mouths moved, nose scrunched when needed…. it was so much more expressive than he'd ever considered.

For quite a few of her signs, she clicked her tongue. It seemed to be something unique to her, personally.

He now desperately wanted to communicate with her. If she would let him.

" _H….. hate….f...ful…"_

Decidedly not, no. Not yet, anyway.

But his father's point had been made. He'd attacked one of their own, and he was being shunned.

The entire car ride, his body began to try to regain use of his muscles. He slowly regained his posture, but emotionally, he felt drained. His future looked bleak, without her to bring light and warmth. She was a balm to his soul, he knew it. If only she would look at him. Even in hatred, he just needed her eyes.

* * *

 

When they finally made it to the Manor, Braxiatel was let out by Chauncey first, so they could both help Donna. Arkytior came next, followed by Theta, and then Gamma. The Brigadier pulled up on the left flank, and McCrimmon took the right. Trig and C'rizz stayed by the gate, C'rizz glancing out at the street. He could see some humans wandering by, giggling schoolkids from the Olde London School. C'rizz unzipped his jacket, showing off his Chrome .45s, with the Lungbarrow family emblem on the butts of both of them.

It was a threat.

"Where are you supposed to be?" he called out to the schoolkids, who stared at him with wide eyes. They all appeared around 14.

They scattered.

As the Family walked past a group of workers while they made it to the front stoop, Arkytior turned and looked at the new landscaper, a boy from her school that she'd never had the nerve to speak to. He was average height, medium build, with sandy brown hair. His eyes were a shade of cognac, and they seemed to darken further every time he set eyes on her.

Today, he was sun-kissed and beautiful, without a shirt on, a few dirt smudges on his cheeks, and cargo work pants that were slung low across his hips, not quite fitting his slighter frame. He smiled at her, and nodded politely, remembering his place.

His name was James Stone, she knew that; just like she knew that everyone called him Jimmy. Jeez, was he attractive. She gave him a shy smile in return, and walked into the Manor as Braxiatel held open the door, while Jimmy got a huge grin on his face that could only be described as a young man feeling excessively pleased with life.

That ended about two seconds later when he met Theta's glare on his face, upper lip twitching like a snarling doberman. The sight of a pissed off Time Lord giving him that look and showing that much fang was enough to put the fear of the gods into the poor boy, who jogged off to finish trimming the hedges, and to pretend that he hadn't even  _seen_  the girl.

Theta put the boy on his list of people to Borrow from in the future, and accidentally take too much from.

As he stepped into his home, he stepped on something that felt like a thick cord. He blinked and glanced down, digging hard on it with his boot just as he heard a growling noise.

Matches stood there, snarling in pain over his tail, and smoke started to curl out of his nostrils. His face turned a shade of orange as he called fire from his belly.

Gamma calmly walked past the scene of his son running away from the angry baby dragon, who was breathing fire at his arse.

" _HOLY FUCKING SHIT WHO LET THAT THING INTO THIS HOUSE?!"_

* * *

 

_Past_

Walking with his young son Theta along the beach, Gamma permitted himself to go as shoeless as his rebellious son was. The boy was an adventurous sort, through and through, and he didn't want to disappoint him by pinpricking the dreams of his future, but he had to tell him of his choice.

Braxiatel would have been the obvious choice to run the Family. A good, sturdy man; slow to anger and always up high on all business related studies. Brax had a mind for diplomacy, a heart for Family, and a hawk's eye for any issues that could prevent the Family from running as it should.

But that was the problem.

The Family was  _not_  a machine, it was a group of people.

It had been so strange for Gamma to hear and see that his son, Theta - who was so different - was a soul just like him. They were alike in as many ways as they were different, and while it may sound a bit arrogant, the only one he could trust the Family to was himself. Theta was a close second.

"You know, I didn't know my Father like the way that you know me," Gamma began, staring at the sea.

Theta nodded, softly. "I figured," he said carefully, uncertain of the gravity of the subject.

"I know I don't always show it, but you are a source of great pride to me, Theta Sigma."

That definitely held Theta's attention. His Father had always been caring, gentle, attentive and even adoring…. but he and Braxiatel were as close as Theta and his mother had been. Theta had never taken offense, never felt slighted by it.

"...Grazie…" he murmured in return, struggling to maintain a grip on his tone. It brought crimson to his eyes just to think of it.

"You are…. so like me, you know? Sometimes, we disagree…. but I feel it is more because we are alike than any differences. You may have turned right when I would have turned left… but son, that's quite all right. I shall always support you. Even if I disagree with it. I will be there to catch you. You know this, surely?"

The crimson fluid just would not go down from his eyes. It was blurring the ocean into something Biblical in his vision.

"It is why I have chosen my successor."

Theta tensed. Gamma knew that the thought of his parents entering into the Unbreathing worried him, how could it not? But he took his son's hand and squeezed gently.

"I'm certain Braxiatel was not shocked by his nomination," Theta spoke warmly of his brother, showing no hard feelings.

"I suppose he wouldn't have been, had he been nominated. However, I have chosen another."

"Papa…"

"It is you. You shall make the Family so proud, Theta."

It was a lot of pressure to put on someone. It was also not a request. But Theta didn't take it badly.

"I suppose I'd never considered taking the job…"

"Had you another thought in mind, Theta?"

His father's eyes took him in, and he knew his father wasn't going to be angry if he declined but… the thought of finally proving himself made him too excited to truly make a fuss where he should have. He didn't want to be the lead alpha - it was a Brax job. Brax had been born for the fucking job.

"... Merely… now, we both know that someday soon - much sooner than either of us would like - I'll be walking in your shoes-"

"I know that you'll be magnificent. How could you not? You are my son."

Theta smiled at that, staring into the sunset, having always enjoyed the way the glowing ball always looked as it appeared to dip beneath the water.

"Please, Papa tell me what you've learned. I don't want to disappoint the Family by making smaller missteps, getting my fingers burned, destroying frameworks you've spent  _centuries_  building…"

"You  _shan't_ ," Gamma said, taking Theta's face into his hands and gently rubbing his cheek with his thumb. "But you shall make your own mistakes. They will feel like the end of the world, every last one of them. Just remember that you live and you learn, Theta. You will be the Head of the Family, but this does not mean that you are to be bullheaded. Be open to the possibility of being wrong, tesoro. Correct your mistakes where you can, learn from them when you cannot. Remember, humility."

"Humility?" His son tilted his head a bit, mahogany eyes taking him in.

"Yes.  _Never_  take for granted your connections to the other Family. You must. be. humble. You must realize how  _tenuous_  connections can be. Recognize each kindness, and remember  _each_  transgression."

Recognizing his son's being overwhelmed by the situation, he smiled at him, patting his shoulder. "Boh, I am speaking out of turn, in this case. Fret not. You will learn the functions in your Academy courses. Anything extra,  _figlio mio_ , will come from private lessons between us, hmm? I will not go into the Unbreathing without knowing that you are more than qualified, and capable, of making the right decision for the Family."

Theta smiled as his father gently patted his cheeks, and the two finished watching the sunset together in a companionable silence.

* * *

 

Sitting down for the first Family meal found Sarah Jane fluttering around the table, smiling so happily over Theta being home. Lord Gamma was at the head of the table, Braxiatel right next to him, along with Arkytior. On the other side of him sat Donna, and next to her was Theta, the couples across the table from each other.

Theta was sitting in a different chair, a black one that almost looked like a mini throne. His hair was a bit wild, not as slicked back as could be with the gel he'd used. His eyeliner was back to being mostly freshened, and he stared at her, having forgotten to shave off the stubble. It was a good look on him, her mind thought traitorously. He wore another dark pair of jeans, this pair black. His wine colored silk shirt was button up, the top three left undone. Arkytior was trying not to stare, but he had temporary makeup tattoos and she was curious. Theta tried especially hard not to puff up and presume it may mean that she was attracted to him again.

She was curious about the symbols, the two crosses on his neck and the pentagram. She'd never seen them before - religious symbols outside of the Faith were banned, even in history books, a long time ago. By now, there was no point in getting angry at Theta for having them - no one understood their significance. They were just long dead symbols from a long dead civilization.

He gave her a soft smile, and her eyes instantly went back to her food.

_Fuck._

In her cream colored dinner dress, carefully hand selected for the meal this evening, she was supposed to feel beautiful and powerful. Instead she sort of felt like she was playing dress up in someone else's clothing. But it didn't stop Theta from complimenting her.

"You look beautiful, Arkytior," he said, pouring himself a glass of wine. He lifted it slightly in toast to his statement, a glass filled with a strange green liquid that looked like a potion, his chipped black nailpolish on his short nails showing as he took a hefty drink.

She blushed a bit, and then got mad at herself for doing so.

Braxiatel's eyes crossed he rolled them so hard.

"So, Theta," Gamma murmured, drawing everyone's attention. "You shall tell us about the most recent specializations you added to your repertoire, no?"

When Lord Gamma asked for information, it was never a request. Theta could feel the emotional pressure, and the mental pressure of a stronger telepath near him, compelling him to respond. He wasn't stupid, he couldn't fight his sire forever, and his body was exhausted enough from his soulmate's repulsion. But he could make it more difficult on his father to get the information he wanted, and still feel like himself.

"I'm not certain what you mean. Might I request specificity?"

His father's eyes flashed, and he felt the heaviness in their connection. Brax's eyes flicked up to Theta, knowing precisely what he was doing. The disapproval was clear.

"You are already quite aware of that which I am inferring, Theta."

The voice was a cold warning, and apparently Arkytior was unused to such a tone, because she looked up at ...their father with concern marring her beautiful features.

 _Mine_. She could have been  _mine_. We could have been in each other's arms by now.

"Precision of language, Father."

Gamma was getting pissed, and he spoke again, a powerful rumble from his chest. "The physicians specialties?"

"Ah, you mean the medical specializations," Theta said quickly, the pressure on his mind becoming unbearable, relieved the moment he answered.

"Indeed."

"Which of them needs elaboration? I should have thought they'd been quite clear."

Braxiatel sighed, picking at his food, while Donna watched, entertained.

"Theta, please," Brax whispered.

A tapping on the table drew attention to Arkytior, who began to ask about the subject.

**What were the specializations?**

"Yes, Theta," Gamma continued the conversation, as though she'd spoken aloud. "Do inform those at the table who were unawares of your extra specializations that you took without informing the Family of your intent."

Braxiatel flinched. He had known what Theta was doing, he just hadn't stopped him.

"Koschei and I both received specializations in epidemiology, and varying degrees in medical sciences, surgical specializations, and we both got permission to receive employ at the hospital in New New York, once we complete an internship at the one in New London. I don't see the fucking problem."

"You know the  _problem_ , Theta-" his Father said, his voice raising a bit.

Matches climbed under the table, begging Arkytior for scraps. She could never resist his smoosh face.

"I want to be a goddamned doctor, not some self important, rich  _asshole_. Like the world doesn't have enough of those-"

"You dare!" Gamma inhaled sharply, offended to his core.

The Brigadier had stepped in from the kitchen when he'd heard the raised voices, taken one look at that table, and turned right back around and went into the kitchen again, where it was safe and warm with Sarah Jane.

He wasn't getting involved.

Nope. Nuh uh.

"I don't see why my becoming a doctor is any imposition-"

"You owe the Family to take your place! You have known this since you were younger." Lord Gamma's voice was raised enough to sound like a yell.

That was so rare that Arkytior had never heard it in her life. Braxiatel could only name twice.

"Mother supported me."

The entire room went silent.

Arkytior's trembling hand dropped her goblet of water, making it clang on the floor.

The cleaning staff didn't want to step out of the kitchen and clean it, instead playing rock, paper, scissors to see who was stuck with entering that room.

"Too far, Theta," Braxiatel hissed, looking at his brother.

"If your responsibilities to your Family mean so little to you, then mayhap the impact you will have on Arkytior's future by the taking of such a lowly, unstable, insupportable position shall. Would you dishonor your Mother's memory so by causing active harm in this way?"

She was trembling all over. A future, a future with  _him_?! But he hated her, he wanted to see her disinherited!

What future?!

She picked up Matches, which made Theta instantly react.

"Mithrus  _christ_  that thing again?! Someone shoot it and stuff it before it attacks her!"

Her jaw dropped at the thought of someone hurting her baby Matches. She instantly picked him up, cradling him like a baby, before putting him up so he could look over her shoulder, arms wrapped around her and tail wrapped around her wrist.

Arkytior got up out of her chair quickly, signed an apology to her Father, stating she was no longer hungry.

Matches smirked at Theta over her shoulder while she signed to her Father, and began to stroke her back, making purring noises and making him unbearably jealous. The dragon flipped him off.

"My darling, you must awaken early in the morn, I must speak to you of subjects I have been avoiding with you. My apologies, but it must be done."

She nodded, and Matches smiled an evil, toothy smile over her shoulder at Theta as he let out a hissing laugh, rubbing his claws together and hoping Theta ventured into the room. He'd been plotting genital revenge for a decade.

She made it up the grand staircase, heading to her room. The sound of her door shutting echoed down the hall, and everyone began to pick at their food until they finally just gave up all semblances of the Family dinner and began to leave.

* * *

 

_Past_

After the loss of his soulmate, his son had faded to black. His son who was always in nice clothing (save for the trainers... why the trainers...) had usually enjoyed brighter colors - whites, blues, even reds. But his son had sat down on that couch after his mother's passing and had seemed to simply grow into the couch. He laid down, cocooning himself into a blanket, and simply seemed to become one with the fabric.

Gamma had tried so hard to give his son his space, to allow him his mourning while still showing him that he was there for him, that he loved and wanted him about. It had been so difficult for him to do, because he had lost both of his children along with his wife in one fell swoop.

His wife's voice was still embedded into his memory even though it was absent from his mind. He didn't envy his children…  _especially_  not Theta. Dealing with Arkytior would be so difficult, she was  _twice_  as stubborn as her mother. His son had still not even dealt with his mourning over his mother, and Gamma knew it was necessary. For a time after his wife's passing, Braxiatel had gone missing. Oh, he was still in the room, but Gamma couldn't find his son at all. Just blank stares, empty glances, and a monotone voice.

It'd broken his heart, and honestly prolonged his own submission to his mourning. How could he give in to the torturous pain of losing his mate when his child was so harmed? He'd done everything to help at the time.

Theta had shoved him away forcefully, storming out of the house and telling everyone that they had  _failed_  her. Braxiatel had stayed, silent in his hurt. His son Braxiatel was in the same room as he was, but he must have been billions of light years away from him for all that it counted. He couldn't find his son.

Braxiatel always held everything together so logically, was such a warm presence. Not as warm and light and filled with life as Theta was, but still, it was such a missed presence. He'd often wondered what would have become of his children if they had been instead born into Gallifrey as Time Lords back in the long long ago. In the Before Times, repression had been key. Such warmth and adoration... so many feelings and emotions would have been discouraged and punished. His sons would have been forced to ignore them.

They might never have missed or known their Mother at all.

It had taken giving in to his feelings and actually feeling them to bring his son back to him.

Theta had allowed them to fester, shoved them aside until they'd become a cancer in him, and as his father, it was painful to watch and to know that he couldn't make him better.

Perhaps Arkytior could help, if he would let her. Perhaps his instincts could lead him to a better path before he stuck his foot in it.

His head felt so empty without his wife's warmth, her voice singing in his mind like the dizzying buzz after drinking a fine wine. She'd had a softer tone to her, toward the end. He could still remember her sadness as she'd realized she wouldn't be the one to be there for their daughter. She'd begged him over and over again to find her.

He'd just been unable to explain her illness, and every single Time Lord physician had agreed with him. The entirety of the House Yana had looked into her illness, even turning the hospital of New Earth's moral practices on their head to attempt to find a cure for whatever she'd had. They'd at least had rewards for their harmful work - there was a cure for things that shouldn't have cures for centuries, now. This was how the House Yana had assuaged any form of guilt or questioning for their human farming. Of course, House Declan hadn't seen the trouble with it, either. Caroline always was up for anything scientific, and the results had come quickly, the results making for the fight against intergalactic disease leaning toward the side of the cure. Treatments became cures, and the cures' effectiveness increased at a geometric rate until people were able to have the ability to even catch those diseases bred out of their dna. All of this medical treatment created, of course, a financial windfall for the House Yana.

The only House that would have stood against such amorality and taken Delta down a few pegs would have been House Lungbarrow, but Gamma was too invested in treatment for his wife.

He just didn't understand, and in his panic for losing his soulmate and hearing that voice in his mind begin to fade and feeling her light begin to dim, he'd found many things permissable that he shouldn't ought to have.

Time Lords didn't become so ill so fast like that. She should have had a few decades left in her, but something had seemed to drain her of her time. The mysterious mark on her body that she'd never explained to him. The way she'd screamed in pain until Gamma had removed the Venetian mirror from her room that she'd been so proud of; and eventually all forms of reflective surfaces.

She'd never told him  _why_.

Something had murdered his wife, that much was clear; and it had taken its sweet time doing so. She had suffered to the point of torture, her energy slowly siphoned from her body for years until she'd finally given up the ghost and moved into the Unbreathing.

Holding onto the tatters of his soul for the sake of both of his sons had been the hardest thing that Lord Gamma had ever done.

His son had escaped to the Academy, refusing to speak to him further. Gamma had called over and over, but had been unable to reach him. Theta simply wouldn't pick up for him.

So he sent him one last text, before giving him space.

_I'm here, and I'll be, if I can, your father and your friend._

Theta had begun to text back, saying  _Father, I-_  but it was cut off as his phone ran out of battery, and by the time his phone had charged, his response was dust in the wind.

* * *

 

After that, supper ended quite quickly, to say the least.

Donna got up, calmly, and gave Theta a knowing glance. He bared his fangs at her, to which she rolled her eyes to high heaven. He calmly pushed back his little throne, and didn't bother to push it back in as he walked up the grand staircase, ignoring his father's disappointed stare burning into his back.

Fucker.

Like he needed him anyways.

He didn't need anyone, save for the woman going up the stairs. He had to fix things. The niggling voice in the back of his mind that told him that so far, his attempts to fix things had only served to fuck them up more was ignored in favor of the one telling him to hurry and get to her. That was the plan, to go up to her and just explain everything, of course. Just tell her that everything she would need to know could be known if she would just give herself to him. Once she did that, she would understand. But she was regrettably human. How could she understand something so complex? She had been raised with Family, but that didn't mean she could possibly comprehend a mating bond... their Father had obviously been remiss in explaining them to her. Whatever details he'd withheld had been enough to put her into mortal danger. What if she hadn't have heard him badmouthing her?

_I'd be inside of her right now._

He growled a bit and licked his bottom lip at the thought, his steps going slower. He treaded more lightly upon the Earth, ever a predator until -

''What the  _hell_  do you think you're  _doing_?!''

Braxiatel. Fucking shit.

''It's called walking up a flight of stairs and into the foyer. You're quite fortunate to witness it, only comes about every coupla decades or so-"

"Stop being so sarcastic whenever anyone speaks to you. It's gotten  _real old_ , Theta Sigma."

"Hah!" The laughter exploded from Theta's chest and throat with a mixture of disbelief and actual amusement. His brother stood in front of him, all broody eyed and cross armed, he looked  _hilarious_! "Don't tell me my faff-arsed brother finally found his bollocks, because I won't believe it without proof."

"You're a spoiled brat through and through, Theta."

Theta's lips lifted in his playful grin, and he half danced on his tiptoes as he moved quickly to one of the chaise lounges in the giant foyer, seeing yet another multi-photo frame of Family decorating the wall. Something about it seemed off, but he ignored it in favor of a lazy posture wherein he had one leg lifted over the edge of the chaise, the other kicked out in front of him, watching his brother with almost childlike glee and amusement.

Braxiatel's hand itched to slap the smile off his face.

Theta's fingernails glanced over his dark jeans as he stared up at his brother. "Am I?"

The words were a loosely veiled threat.

"Don't you  _dare_  go up to her room."

"Or what?" His heckles were raised, and he began to sit up, eyes darkening further as he took in his brother. "You'll do what? Try and fight me? Please, Irving, we all know why I was the one chosen. I could take you any day."

"That may be, or shall I say, might've been."

" _Rubbish_!" he snorted in his amusement, looking up at his brother. "You?  _Please_. You think I'm going to be frightened of you, Irving? You're a knitted scarf, a fucking nyaff! What're you gonna do, clipe on me to Father? Go on, tattle. I can take the old man too."

"You get too far ahead of yourself, Theta. I'm warning you," his brother growled in a low voice he'd never heard before. Brax squatted in front of him for a moment, so they were eye to eye. His brother's eyes looked more unforgiving than he'd ever seen before. "She isn't just your mate, you sodding idiot. She's also  _my_  sister. I helped raise her from a little thing on up to where she is today. Don't think I  _won't_  fucking protect her from the likes of  _you_."

With that, Braxiatel left his brother in shock over the fact that he'd lowered himself to swearing, and had generally been scary as fuck.

Theta considered it for a moment, and then went back to his original lackadaisical position on the chaise. Pulling out a small box consisting of three cigars and a tool that he used to clip the end off of one of them, he then placed it into his mouth. He lit it casually with a match he'd removed from the same pocket, taking a few puffs and thinking, before grinning with it in between his teeth.

"Fair enough, old boy, you wanna bring out your kitty claws, that's fine with me," he muttered none too clearly between gritted teeth before inhaling again, this time removing the cigar between his fingers before exhaling. "Game on."

As he thought about what he was about to do next, it suddenly clicked to him what was so strange about so many photos of Family.

All of the mirrors that had decorated the Manor were gone.

Just like when Mother had been sick.

Something about the lack of reflective surfaces in the Manor made the hair raise on his neck.

* * *

 

Thank you for everything,  
  


Natural Blues


	5. Homecoming, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second part of Homecoming. Arkytior tries to deal with her feelings about her day with Theta and how she feels about him and what happened. This chapter earns its rating, and Theta comes to a realization about her nightmares and what happened to his mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!
> 
> I'm so sorry that I've been gone for so long. I know it's been ages, but real life got in the way in the worst way. Those closest to me know about it, but either way, I have made my writing a priority. It's my goal to have finished this story and a few others by the end of the year. I have 26 more chapters planned, so don't think I'm done yet. Thank you for sticking with this story, thank you for the kudoses, the reviews, and the asks you've sent.
> 
> This entire story wouldn't be possible without Foxmoon, to whom it is a gift, but this chapter itself wouldn't be possible without quite a few people, including my wife, to whom I owe the world. Thank you also to Bluedawn, Bubblygal, Cheile, Kelkat9, KTRose (without whom the smut in this chapter would have been unbeta'd and I'd have been too nervous to post it), Imadethisblogtofollowyou, my Bumblebee (Dimensionhoppingrose) and Musiclover500. Thank you also to Allegoricalrose who gave this fic two fic recs, which absolutely blew my mind. I'd never been rec'ed before. The response to this fic has been amazing, and all of the people who have reviewed and commented... thank you. 
> 
> Don't give up on me yet. We still have a ways to go. Don't give up on Theta just yet either. Rock bottom is a solid foundation. This chapter does have two different dream sets -- one of them is a fantasy/memory, and the other is one that she'd dreamt during childhood, when she met Theta. It's being used to explain something. Please let me know if it's confusing in any way.
> 
> Thank you!

_A dream._

_The little girl was running, running, running._

_The baying of the dogs was coming louder now, along with the ghost of a symbol in her mind that she knew she needed to remember… but it had been stolen from her memory. She knew that it would be needed - it was so important, it was the key to all of this! - but_ _**She** _ _didn't want her to remember it. It was a symbol of power, it was something that would hurt Her. Something that would give power to that which She hated._

_Those words… what were they again?_

_So much dark, she could hardly see._

_She was at the Manor, and she was always safe there, but… in the pitch of night, with the dogs on her tail, she didn't feel very safe._

_Her fortress was invaded, and the dogs ran after her, blackening everything they touched like a plague. Each pounding of paws on the ground made a shadow curl up from the print, wrapping itself into the night and changing the environment from castle to battleground. Arkytior wasn't a Time Lady, she didn't have eyes that could automatically adjust, not like the dogs did. Not like Family. Not like a Twist, or even Tactics._

_She wasn't anywhere in the Manor that she recognized, at first, until she noticed a piece of art, one she'd only seen once. This meant that she was in one of the extra parlors, one that her papa told her used to be the ballroom, but they had since changed the house. A Time Lady, a Time Tot, would have been safer. A Time Tot would have been able to fight._

_Maybe not be able to win, per se, but would be able to go down swinging._

_She just wasn't a hunter, like they were. She didn't have the Hunger, like they did - the need to Borrow. There was something about them as a species that made them need life force in order to intake sustenance. Although their kind did this, her Papa had insisted that members of the Family had long ago banned the act of Borrowing from those who could not consent to the act, namely the intoxicated, or children._

_He also said that they would never Borrow from her._

_She believed him._

_Why would he lie?_

_Looking around the parlor, she could see that the small part of the room she was in was octagonal, and it had cushions under the windows, obviously made to be inviting during the day. She ran to one, trying to open it, get away from the hunting dogs -oh how had they gotten into the Manor?! Where was her Family?! - But she stopped the instant she heard the sounds of sniffing from the other side of the glass._

_Oh Rassilon, but they were outside as well!_

_She ducked down, breathing heavily, trying to remember how she'd gotten away from them before. She couldn't…. it just wouldn't come! She tried harder, but it felt like the harder she tried to focus on the thought, the further away it scurried. Like someone had changed her mind, someone had taken away information in order to make her forget._

_Someone_ _**had** _ _changed her mind; taken away how she'd run away._

_Who?_

_"Little One, do you trust me?"_

_That was Braxiatel's voice… it echoed along her mind like it was spoken in a cave. It was a memory. But…_

_"Don't worry. I'm just going to take a look, right up here…"_

_She could feel the ghost of his finger, tapping lightly on her forehead._

_Had Braxiatel gone through her mind?!_

_She began to crawl along the floor, trying to keep quiet, but her buttons on her pajamas made a soft scraping noise every time she moved, and she knew the dogs must know. Their ears had to have heard her, and she hid under the table by the bookcase. It felt like they were everywhere, and they were so, so big; she was so, so little. She hugged her knees to her chest and tried to wrack her brain. Too much happening at once, too much!_

_Come on, come on. I can do this! I can find Papa!_

_"I'm going to see exactly what you've been trying to tell us, and we're going to know what you remember, that's all." The memory of Braxiatel's voice filtered back through, bringing her back to the issue._

_He_ _**had** _ _! Braxiatel had gone through her mind! Like it was a rolodex application on a tablet, he'd done! She remembered now!_

… _But why had she forgotten?!_

_She heard panting a little too close, and it snapped her out of her thoughts. The sudden clicking noise right above her alerted her to the nearness of her enemy._

_...The dog was on the table!_

* * *

_::Present::_

Arkytior made it up the stairs in due time, although it had been difficult to do.

Not that carrying Matches was a big thing, mind you. No no, she was used to carrying that pudgy little ball of scales, often while the spikes on his back were flared upwards in anger and he was hissing at someone; that is, until he got a flame caught in his nose and began a weird cough/snort/hack that just sounded like a person snorting before spitting. But he was her baby, her jealous little baby who had never permitted anyone with romantic interest within ten metres of her. The sight of Micks screaming down the lane with a baby dragon attached by the fangs to his right buttcheek was something she'd not soon forget.

Date Micks? She adored him as a friend, but her Papa would have had him assassinated.

The dragon in question nuzzled her as she went up the stairs, making happy grunting noises like a pug dog used to, before they went extinct.

His sounds did differ, however; as there was always a small puff of smoke with each snort.

Either way, it wasn't the actual weight of him in her arms at all, it was just the walking away from Theta Sigma that made each step so uneven, she almost felt like a baby bird. Even her school uniform shoes felt like they were leaden, and Matches felt like he weighed twice what he did. Trying to seem unaffected - cool, calm, _collected_ \- while making her exit just made it worse. She wished she had the grace that Amelia had to be able to flounce out of a room effectively, in a flip of wild red hair and an obscene gesture while she did it.

In heels.

She shouldn't let him get to her like this. That's what he wanted! His words haunted her, though.

_"-I ripped those too without even looking at her. She. Means. Nothing. To. Me."_

She'd just come up to see to her Family and hadn't been able to help herself but to listen. She could hear them through the door, whose foundation was nowhere near as solid as the price of attendance should have paid for. Those words had been shocking, at first. These were the first words she was to hear from _her brother_? ….Who had he been _talking_ about? Was he denying an accused romantic entanglement? Arkytior knew from Braxiatel that any romantic entanglements between Time Lords in Academy that were not each other's soulmates required a lot of paperwork, in case the soulmate in question's family demanded documentation of prior relations.

Arkytior never understood _why_ , precisely, someone would want that; but she wasn't a Time Lady and thus wasn't meant to comprehend such things that were above her.

Although, it should be noted that - to her knowledge- _Donna_ had never cared about such things, nor demanded any documents beyond a wedding certificate.

She didn't know about the woman, but whomever this person was, he was obviously filled with distaste for her. Arkytior hadn't even met this brother of hers yet, so she had decided that she wasn't going to suddenly start judging him for being angry over a classmate or something. How often had she been irritated at her classmates for doing stupid things while she was working her arse off on all of her reports, and they still got a decent grade?! The classic complaint, yes, but it appeared that it was ever true. She still remembered with a lot of bitterness when a group of girls had been assigned to do a project with her… _hah_. It had been a very complicated history project on the Fall of the Pythia, and she'd spent hours working on perfecting it. They didn't do a _damn thing_ and still got in on her Excellent.

 _Unfair_.

Maybe this was why he was cross. If one of his classmates was graduating with undeserved honors that Theta had earned, well, he had right to be dissatisfied with those results.

_"Theta Sigma, for the Founder's sake! Be reasonable, for once in your very existence-"_

Ah, Braxiatel. He was always the voice of reason. Hearing his voice should have calmed her, but he was _shouting_. Brax _never_ shouted unless it was an occasion which merited shouting…. and such occasions did not happen often for a Time Lord. Gallifreyans were of a different breed, of course. They did not do such things as raise their voices for any reason beyond clarification and auditory necessity. Even then, though, it should be noted that any Gallifreyan shouldn't ought to need such amplification - they had been groomed to speak in perfectly clear tones at all times. Plus, she was certain that Brax had received the highest marks in his Detachment course, so she was confused by his lashing out.

_"You're about to be down a brother, at this rate," Donna muttered. "This room is about to become a crime scene-"_

Donna, on the other hand, had likely flunked out of the Detachment course entirely, along with her emotional control modules. She often went off at the gob about every single feeling within her body, and her pregnancy and hormonal imbalance had created quite the inner storm. To be frank and be a Time Lord was not uncommon, but to be brutally honest about _everything_ was something that was quite unique to Donna, and the House Noble. She was often chided for her candor, but her pregnancy had removed her from such censure, at least for a few months. This wasn't necessarily a good thing, as the lack of boundaries seemed to incite her further. She had already grabbed a valet by the tie and threatened to kick him in the arse until he spat his spinal column, so Arkytior was not at all surprised by her outburst.

Maybe the classmate was a Noble. This would not end well, in that case.

_"Don't you threaten me, this fight is not with you!" Theta railed._

_"Do not raise your voice to my wife-"_

Like Donna couldn't take care of herself.

But truly, Theta's lack of decorum was unseemly, unbecoming of a Time Lord. Arkytior wasn't just unimpressed, she was a bit _embarrassed_ of him, if she were honest. What if other people heard his emotional ranting? What would they think of her Family? _This_ was the brother meant to take over Papa's place when he was older?!

_"Then don't you bring that little spoiled, selfish cow into this discussion! I will return home, and when I do, Father can go into the Unbreathing with Mother."_

_**What?!** _

Arkytior reeled back from that thought. Her papa couldn't be- was he passing on so soon?! That was impossible, he was in perfect health. He was well exercised, he had a healthy appetite, he Borrowed often as he should, he wasn't passing off his different responsibilities, he was never any more tired than he should be. If he was ill, shouldn't she have known? How had she not noticed?! She was terrified, and she felt the familiar sting in her eyes as she fought back her emotional state. Her throat burned as she tried to swallow the lump and sick it up. She was on Academy grounds. It would not do for her to be so sanguine, she would embarrass her Family...

" _I shall take over the house, and you had better believe that…. that little_ _ **human**_ _is disinherited! STARTING NOW!"_

 _Human?!_ Arkytior was shocked, but if she were honest, she'd had this fear all along, of not truly belonging in this Family, of being _less than_. She'd had a feeling that when Theta Sigma had never bothered to contact her, that perhaps he didn't view her as his Family. But she had always honored him as she should, she had done _everything_ to make sure that she was nothing if not polite. She'd written him one card per year on his birthday, and even though she'd never received a personal thank you in return, she'd always done it so faithfully. She wanted to be a good sister to him, perform her duties and honor him as future Lead Alpha. But he didn't appear want that at all. There was no one else he could have been speaking of, to her knowledge. Family didn't associate with humans other than her and Tactics like C'rizz, Trigger, McCrimmon, and the Brigadier.

Sarah Jane always said that people who eavesdropped never heard good of themselves.

_"I will perform a living autopsy on you, with this pen-"_

Her sister in law… was going to one day end up on a prison planet.

_"Theta, you are being irrational, your instincts have taken over, you are combative. You cannot allow the bellicose to override you. Father will have your hide if you so much as frown at Arkytio-"_

Damn right he was combative! He may want her disinherited, but at least she wasn't _rude_!

_"Do not even breathe her name near me," Theta said acidly. "Arkytior. Arkytior. Little Miss Arkytior of Lungbarrow. The little fucking human, the undeserving human, and I have thought of her often during my time away. I have seen how you have chosen her over me…. and I hate her with every piece of my being. I hate her with both of my hearts, and the blackness in my soul."_

There it was.

Her tears fell down her face, hot little trails along her skin that itched as they started to dry. She felt a sharp pain in her throat as she tried to make some form of noise, but it always felt like she had food that she'd never been able to swallow in there. Like she'd been choking for years on scars and tears and the rest of her life would just be that way. She hated it even more in these moments… her body begged for the release to just _scream_. It didn't matter what the hell it was. She just wanted a word. _Any_ word. Any _good_ bad word like fuck. Or shit! Piss! Hell!

_Asshole._

Her hands trembled and her body arrested, legs threatening to give way.

This was supposed to be her _brother_.

But then she heard him say something, and the door was thrown open before she had a chance to escape.

She was blinded by the very sight of him, because the instant he was in her presence, all of his fury seemed to subside, and she realized that the strange feeling in her mind that had been calling her had been _him_. He was right in front of her, staring at her in a funny way that made her stomach flip. This was her visitor, her protector; she'd know that smell anywhere. It was a strange spice, and the scent of melon that she'd never smelled on anyone else before. Of course, _now_ she knew it had been the drink he liked.

The betrayal had burned hot in her, and her eyes were still glistening with that which hadn't already spilled over. The time to be concerned over shame and couth was long over, and Theta Sigma had broken that boundary long ago. He'd left her barren, humiliated, and for what? Badmouthing her… thinking she was some spoilt infant! When had she _ever_ given him cause to think that about her?! She'd done everything to prove to the Family how grateful she was for what they'd done!

She was prompted to tell him how she felt, right now at this moment. She gathered everything she had in her, knowing she couldn't speak long. Pulling as much oxygen into her body through her nose as she could, ready for her last stand, her whole chest rattling with the effort it took just to finally get the last word.

"Y-y-y-y-ou… y-...you're…." she'd inhaled deeply, steeling herself for her next word. Damn, but speaking was hard! "M-m-m-m- _mean_!"

The word felt like it had scraped out of her throat like a knife, and she damn near choked on it. He'd hissed and gripped his wrist, confusing her, but she hadn't put much thought into it as she'd run off, upset. She just needed to escape the look on his face, the look in his eyes…. he'd been intimate with her - he'd been her first. He hated her. He'd _been_ with her, but he _hated_ her.

She'd been used.

...Used for years?

He'd acted like _he'd_ been the one hurt afterward. Like _he_ was the one internally collapsing after he'd spewed such vile, hateful words about her. How could he think that about her when he was the one who had been there for her for so long?! He'd cared for her, spoken with her, protected her! Had he been secretly laughing behind her back that entire time?! Had he been trying to lull her into some false sense of security just to toss her out?

But that didn't make any sense!

Then why touch her intimately? Why call her pet names? Why tell her everything he had told her?! Was it a game, some sick, disgusting game that House Declan was renown for playing with humans?! Those games were considered obscene, out of order! No self respecting Time Lord would _dare_!

But maybe Theta wasn't so respectable as she'd thought. There he was, being carried to the car as though he was being pulled from a wreckage, in shock and struggling to be helped. The look on his face was as though he'd just given up in those moments, facial muscles slack, cheeks stained with red lines showing tears - He'd been _crying_ , the sodding rotter! _Crying_! _Him!_ \- and his eyes were trained on the ground. He had made a spectacle of himself. Arkytior could feel the eyes on her _still_ as she walked the rest of the way to the third floor.

She'd been so angry at the sight of him acting like the wounded one. He'd drawn so much attention to them, Time Lords had to be whispering about them, about the weakness in their Family. Were they blaming her faulty blood for it? Were they blaming her at all? Was her Papa ashamed? But when she'd glanced at C'rizz, she'd only seen a look of pity aimed at Theta, and a look to the other side had shown her Turlough, from House Jovanka. He was staring at Theta the same way.

Why were they all on _his_ side of things?! She was the one who'd been wounded by his cruelty. Not the other way around!

She was furious, still. She felt it deep in her chest and she didn't want to stop thinking about it, because if she did, she was going to finally give in to the exhaustion that hating someone so much could cause.

_"An' if he wants to wear them ridiculous trousers, well… that's on him."_

_"The fuck is wrong with my trousers?! They're just jeans."_

My, wasn't _that_ a speech pattern indicative of an Alpha. Completely polite, never a curse...

_"Tight enough to be painted on. I don't need to see your genital contours." Donna snapped._

_"It's not my fault, I'm of a girth wherein I find difficulty in achieving a comfortable fit!"_

Then, commenting about his _penis_ of all things! Like he needed to bring _that_ into the conversation! Like she wasn't embarrassed enough. She wasn't sure what the hell he was playing at now that they were home, either; trying to kiss up to her, giving her these soft looks and telling her how nice she looked while drinking that green potion. But she wasn't falling for his _crap_.

She'd been fooled once, and oh gods, his mouth had been between her legs, that same mouth he had tried to smile at her with.

It was _embarrassing_.

 _Come on,_ she told herself. _Just keep walking._

Just keep walking, and may the Founders keep her from bursting into tears en route.

* * *

_::Dream::_

_Covering her mouth, she tried to keep the silent scream and the tears from making her immobile. Her fight/flight response was triggered as soon as she heard the snarl from right above her. She scrambled out without grace or cunning, stumbling and struggling, making it up just to go back down on her hands and knees again. It was frustrating, but she got to her feet quickly and ran as fast as she could out of the parlor. There were echoes coming from down the hall, the sounds of dog nails clicking on the granite floors, which made her duck into another room, shutting the door with a soft click._

_Oh please no, no no no, please no._

_She couldn't call for help, they would hear if she could even get it out of her throat!_

_...Her throat! What if they tore it out, like they had to the One Before?! Once She was done with the One Before, the One Before had been fed to the dogs!_

_As she backed up in the pitch black room, she noticed something important - a smell. It smelled like Sarah Jane!_

_Safety? No… it smelled like Sarah Jane's herbs… oh no. As her back touched glass, she realized that the small room she'd entered was the greenhouse. A smaller octagonal room, it benefitted the house because Sarah grew all her own herbs and vegetables to feed Little Arkytior. She had harangued multiple times at the girl about how she was a gangly, malnourished thing and she was going to make sure to fatten the child up._

_To Arkytior that had sounded like something someone who wanted to eat her might say._

_In these moments, this room didn't benefit her at all. She could hear a snuffling sound, and hot tears came down her cheeks the instant it stopped, her mouth opening in a silent scream. The painful hiss of breath that managed to come out just seemed to make the crying worse. The panting sound against the glass..._

_It was… it was…_

_Right. Behind. Her._

_The hairs on her arms stood up, and her entire body trembled as she slowly turned, seeing a large, black and tan hunting dog. She could remember Her talking about them - 'Bred to hunt bears, my babies were…' - but in these moments, face to face with one, with only a thin layer of glass separating them, she nearly wet herself._

_Her voice wouldn't come, not even a whimper. The dog's eyes took her in beyond the glass fogged by its breath, and it let out a loud howl of triumph to alert the others before its upper lip lifted - not anger. It was moving in for the kill. She was its prey, and it was ready to take her down for ...Her. It was going to come through the glass! It could do that, she was certain of it!_

_NO! She wasn't going to just sit and accept her fate!_

_She jolted up, hitting her head on the table. Pain. It made her go back down, quickly. In her mind's eye, she could see two eyes, deep brown, snapping open._

_What was that?! Who was that?!_

_Her wrist burned. Braxiatel had told her it meant 'RUN!'_

_She could take a hint._

* * *

_::Present::_

" _Game on." He smirked around his cigar, beginning to walk away from the chaise altogether._

_As he thought about what he was about to do next, it suddenly clicked to him what was so strange about so many photos of Family._

_All of the mirrors that had decorated the Manor were gone._

_Just like when Mother had been sick._

_Something about the lack of reflective surfaces in the Manor made the hair raise on his neck._

He had stopped being as big of a fan of them since his mother had taken ill, just because in her last days, it hadn't been so pretty. Those were times that he could hardly stand to think of, even a glimpse of a thought - and many a time he'd been sorely tempted to hide the information from himself in a little box in the back of his mind if only for a piece of reprieve. But he couldn't do that to her, he couldn't lose any of his time he'd spent with her. It would spit on her memory, and he wouldn't stand for _anything_ that would. When she'd gotten ill, he just hadn't thought anything of it, to be honest. He supposed that on some level, every child imagined that their parents were bulletproof, that there was never going to be a day when life stopped giving them things and began to take them away. Personally, he'd thought the entire thing was _preposterous_. Time Lords didn't take ill. That was something humans did, with their inferior genes and lack of proper structure, and hygiene.

It had started off pretty simple - she had taken 'fallen under the weather', but was still strong. Nothing noticeable at all, just her complaining of a bit of pain in her lower back. This wasn't unusual for a woman who trusted a vortex manipulator to tell her the secrets of time and the universe at large. She'd often run into just a bit of trouble, and Theta had always wanted to go with her to explore the stars but she'd always insisted it was too dangerous, even for a Time Lord. He and his father had thought that perhaps she had injured herself on one of her little trips. It had been after she'd asked him if he'd felt like their Family was complete. He could remember staring at her, head tilted, as though she was crazy.

" _How could we not be complete?"_

She'd wanted a little girl, of _course_ she had. It'd been her _dream_ to birth a daughter, but her body just hadn't given to it. He'd never felt jealous of this desire in her, of course. He and his mother had always had a close relationship. They'd both been cut from the same cloth, she'd said, both too headstrong and emotional for their own good. Both wanting to help too much to realize that they gave too much of themselves sometimes, and forgot to keep any of themselves for… well, themselves. Braxiatel and his father had always been the closest, both business minded and cocksure. His mother had often encouraged him to break away from studying, to come home for a holiday to see her. He'd always feigned as though he wouldn't, but they both knew that he was on the next tram down, until she'd bought him his own mode of transport.

It was against Academy rules, of course, but his mother had scoffed at the rules and lightly punched Gamma on the shoulder.

" _Oh come off it, my love," she chided. "Our son cannot be forced into such restriction! He is a growing Time Lord. He needs the wind in his hair, new air in his lungs, worlds at his feet!"_

His father always gave in.

If he closed his eyes, he could still see her, wearing another one of her pantsuits with strappy heels, reading a novel on her tablet about people she would never know, and considering the human point of view as though she were Socrates. Her hair was usually out of place, only because she had a nervous habit of running her fingers through her hair and would usually mess it up. He could hear her laugh, a sound of pure merriment that always danced in her eyes as well. She would place her hand near her heart if it was a softer laugh, one that was closer to her emotion. She often laughed that way while looking his father in the eyes, and Theta could remember how much he'd longed to find his soulmate, one who would look at him in this way.

To have a secret to share that way, something more private to be merry about.

After her death, he'd thrown the idea out the window.

Love?

What had love ever given his mother in the end but a way to destroy those around her by becoming a member of the Unbreathing? Soulless animals, controlling so much, but returning so little in their red rooms and avant garde. Discordian fiends existing in a land of lavish beauty like they were dolls from a storybook, the cruellest of fae, not caring who fell at their feet, made as they were of dust and bitterness. If he must enter the Unbreathing, it would be better alone, than to be white eyed and seeking another - or worse, to be the one alone, suffering invisible fatal wounds as he waited to join his soulmate.

People were weak and everything came down to strength. If his father wanted it that way, then _fine_ , he wouldn't disappoint. He'd be the Lead Alpha. He'd show them fire and brimstone.

If he was the Alpha, he'd show _all of them_. Watching his mother slowly wither away had sucked the joy out of him, and created a wedge between he and his Family that had only been made worse through the years.

Because of this, he felt no guilt in considering the way things were to be the instant the old man was out of the picture. Things would be run his way, and his father's money would go to the proper causes. His father's money would become _his money_ , naturally. The position of Lead Alpha would belong to him, and so to would the dominion of this part of New Earth. The humans would continue to be run as they should, and the Families would remain the most powerful. They would finally win the war against the Cybermen, and take over other planets in the Galaxy. Family on every planet in the Kasterborous Galaxy…. It was a perfect thought. It would be the most beautiful galaxy known.

Other planets just needed to realize how important it was that they be guided by Time Lords. Time Lords were simply superior.

These thoughts often comforted Theta while he was studying. He'd been raised with that sentence on repeat to comfort him. Other planets simply needed the Time Lords and didn't realize what a Utopia they were foregoing. Free will was just an idea, and a _dumb_ one.

But now, in these moments, he simply longed to see his mother look up at his father. To see Arkytior look at him like that. Such trust.

Was it weakness? Was it madness? Was it instinct?

He was unworthy, was the truth of it.

Other Time Lords may not have approved of his mother's lack of emotionlessness, but they all respected her. She was worthy of respect, worthy of love and loyalty given. She had proven herself to be just and good, and infinitely generous. They respected his father, who had spent so many centuries creating bonds, ties, community, likemindedness…. all of his diplomacy, his meetings, his carefully planned schedules had created the entire concept of Family.

Theta Sigma was not cut from either cloth, it would seem.

Would they ever give him the same modicum of respect?

Even Caroline and Cave respected his parents, and they didn't respect much. When his mother had been alive, the House Declan had remembered their place. But now, with Ushas preparing to take over, it was going to go straight to the Howling. They were too interested in their scientific experiments and didn't care who got injured in the process. Humans, children, it never mattered. A guinea pig was a guinea pig, whatever that meant - the creatures had been extinct for a thousand years.

Ushas had begun calling herself _The Rani_ , Theta had heard. It meant Queen in a dead language. Queen, hmm?

Theta wouldn't permit it. He planned on being a strong Alpha, one who would rule his House in such a way that the other Houses feared stepping out of line the way House Declan did.

Looking at all of the photos, he could see that what was holding them in was a non-reflective cover, protecting the pictures but also not giving the barest hint at the beholder. It was the same as had been used to replace all of the glass in the house when his mother had made it obvious that she wasn't going to ever get any better. She'd screamed over every reflection, accusing it of being lies, of being pain. Of eating her soul, which was ludicrous.

The entire concept of a soul was a human concept, one which had been wiped out with the removal of most religions.

She'd grabbed his arm with bruising force and begged him to look after his sister, begging him to give everything for her. It had made him so angry. She was _crazy_! Why couldn't she just be _normal_? Why couldn't she _come back_?! How could she abandon him?

He frowned again, closing his eyes and hearing his mother scream.

" _GAMMA! GAMMA! MY HEARTS! SHE'S RIPPING OUT MY HEARTS!"_

But nothing had been there.

Gamma had tried to placate her, and she'd told him over and over again.

" _They saw me, Gamma. They_ _ **know**_ _. They'll find her through_ _ **me**_ _, Gamma, you cannot permit this!"_

All of her fevers, all of her nightmares, all of her delirium… his father had tried everything to help her. House Yana had stepped up and given all of their medical expertise, all of their time and efforts that they could spare. They'd gone to some serious lengths to acquire as much, serums, nurses, medical examination equipment, quotes from the best in every galaxy they could acquire. Peacekeepers patrolled and scoured every inch of the surrounding area for any creature that could have been doing this.

All of it had come up with nothing.

In the end, everyone whispered that madness had taken her. To be so emotional, it must have been madness, right?

To have so large a mind and to try to fit something so infinitesimal and barbaric as emotion into it would drive _anyone_ mad.

Either way, Theta was concerned, suddenly.

The dreams, the nightmares that Arkytior had suffered during her childhood, the ones he'd seen and met her through… what if they were the same as the ones that his mother had suffered? His mother had often spoken about being hunted, and he'd simply never made the connection. He'd always thought that his soulmate's dreams were reflective of the warlike area he'd presumed she lived in. Perhaps the evil woman had been representative of the way a child's mind would come to accept the concept of total war - as a faerie story, with one _very bad_ villain, and the concept of being hunted while living on a battleground was not so uncommon. But the proximity of her in his mother's house changed things.

What if his soulmate was suffering from the same madness that had killed his mother? Could he handle watching her die slowly as well?

The cigar fell from Theta's mouth and hit the carpet, not that he paid it any mind as he ran down the hall to fetch Arkytior.

They needed to speak.

* * *

_::Dream::_

_Getting out of the greenhouse had been from a blast of adrenaline that she couldn't explain, but the hallway seemed neverending, and the checkerboard tile floors began to change the further she ran. As she looked back, she could see that the tiles were morphing, one by one - no longer the black and white interchange, but now…. now it was turning into something silver… no maybe it was grey. It was…. the ceiling?_

_No._

_It was becoming mirrored._

_She let out a noise that was a mix of a cry and a whimper, mostly made in her nasal passages, struggling to move faster but her little body just couldn't manage it. It almost felt like she was going slower, her legs weakening and prepping to stumble._

_No no no._

_The hallway seemed to be chasing her. It became smaller and smaller behind her until it disappeared completely as she made it into a room, the door slamming shut and the sounds of the outside disappearing, for now._

_In the room, there were multiple bookcases, their dark wood that would usually be a comfort turned into a cold spot in her stomach as the lights in the room weren't on. Papa wasn't here, going over his daily accounts and instructing Braxiatel about the next course of action for their stocks. His warmth was completely gone, and Braxiatel wasn't burning the midnight oil himself, either. She shivered, looking around, wiping at the tears filling her eyes angrily with her palms. She had to keep it together, she had to get to her father. He would help her, he would. Nobody was stronger than Papa._

_As she looked around, she saw the fireplace and began to walk toward it, needing the heat more than anything._

_Therein lie her mistake, because just as she came close to the back of one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, a gust of wind blew across the room and took the flames with it. Arkytior whipped around, looking at the windows, seeing that the shadows from the trees, barren from the weather so close to Yule, looked like spindly fingers reaching for her. They blew to and fro, and she felt her stomach twitch, trying to ignore the way it seemed like they wanted her, too._

_As she exhaled, she could see her breath in the air, and felt even more unsafe than she had._

_A sudden tapping began, a tapping that she knew, that made her stomach turn over._

_Ta-ta-ta-tap. Ta-ta-ta-tap. Ta-ta-ta-tap. Someone was drumming long fingernails on something._

_No. No no no._

_The tapping ceased when she was suddenly grabbed by the arm, and she let out a loud screeching noise as she struggled in mental and physical pain._

_The fingernails bit into her skin, digging the grooves deeper and deeper until blood came from her little forearm, near her elbow. As she struggled to wrench her arm away, the blood spread as the nails dragged down her arm toward her wrist, taking skin with them. The pain made her make a louder noise than she would have not too long ago, but being with the Family had taught her a life without pain… so she was more sensitive to it than she should have been._

" _Stop making noise, you little ingrate!" snarled the sound of Her voice. "I fed you. I clothed you!"_

_Arkytior struggled. She lies, she_ _**lies** _ _!_

_The crack of a multi-ringed hand across her face temporarily filled her vision with a mix of pink and green from the back of her eyes, and left her starstruck as she hit the floor. The instant she did, she felt something change - an invisible energy, a power that felt like it was coming closer. It felt like those eyes…. those eyes were Family eyes! But there was no way that a member of the Family could be here, she was alone… right?_

_**Let me in.** _

_She didn't know the voice. She'd never heard this voice before, but it was Family, she could feel it._

_The look on Her face changed, as though she felt it as well, and for all of Her usual hatred and bile, she stopped, and looked uncertain._

_The sounds of the dogs came closer, scratching and baying at the door, hunting, calling for their mistress. The dogs were going to eat her carcass this time, she knew it! She had been threatened by Her with it enough times, she was_ _**dead** _ _if those dogs got to her._

_Get away, get away, get away~!_

_Arkytior began to do a backward crabwalk away from Her, struggling to put as much space between them as she could._

_**Family is always welcome.** _

_The thought came instantly, just due to the way she'd been taught by her Papa. Family was always welcomed into every home, at any time, day or night._ _**Come in.** _

_She comtinued scooting backward until she ran into something solid, far from Her now. This would normally have gotten her beaten black and blue._

_But no, no not this time. She wasn't paying attention to the girl on the ground, she was paying attention to the door. She was paying attention to something that could actually be a threat to Her. Something that could actually fight back._

_She moved her hand, and a sound came, of dogs snarling. She could hear a door opening, the one just down the hall._

_Maybe it was a Peacekeeper, and Papa!_

_She was angry, the rage contorted Her face into something ugly and vile. She looked like one of Her dogs. She moved Her hand and gave out a command, sending the dogs to attack -and attack they did. The sound of them tearing down the hall, snarling and leaping for a hunk of flesh was one the girl knew a little too well._

_The howl of pain made the girl sob out, at first thinking it must be her Papa, injured. Or Brax, or the Brigadier… Little Arkytior would rather take it herself than to see anyone she cared about in pain._

_But wait… that was the sound of a dog, yelping._

_The entry burst open, hunks of wood flying everywhere as one of the hunting dogs' bodies was thrown clean through the solid oak door in order to both get rid of the dog and to make way for the one who'd thrown it. She was nearly hit by the thing, and the others were not quick to take the first one's place, cowering in the corner._

_Her… She appeared to be less than her usual, confident self. She stood there, staring at the newcomer, and Arkytior could feel it, for the first time in a long time._

_She was_ _**afraid** _ _._

_Whoever he was… that was a mystery, as Arkytior couldn't see him. It was a man, a person who exuded a masculine Family energy. He stood in the same spot as the debris cleared, his shadowed self looking at Arkytior…. he was waiting for something. She couldn't see his eyes, she just felt cold, hard power coming from him - anger. A Time Lord that was throwing things, gnashing his teeth and destroying property… it was above her need to know. She needed to leave. She needed to get away._

_She needed to find Peacekeepers._

_Arkytior scrambled up and ran, shoving the sliding oak door on the opposite side of the room open, and running into the secondary part of the study, slamming it shut and locking it._

_Leaving Her alone with Him._

* * *

_::Present::_

Arkytior's hand trembled as she sat at her vanity, which was right in front of a painting. It was a gorgeously painted rose, each individual line gone through like silk, showing lighting to the flower that even Arkytior had never noticed. It had to have been done with Family hands, Family eyes to be seen and truly appreciated. There was a wealth of color and sight in the world that only Family knew. Their eyes were able to take in so much more than so many creatures in the galaxy, and it was a fact that many humans complained about. Of course the painting was complete with her mother's name signed on it - the Grand Lady Arkytior had been quite the student of many arts.

As Arkytior ran the soft, golden brush through her hair, she was thinking about her mother… would she ever measure up to such a name? Her hair wasn't so sily or lovely, she could see it in the camera app on her tablet. She wasn't so lovely, either. She had flaws that never showed in photos of her mother. She wasn't a Time Lady, she wasn't eloquent of speech, she was anything _but_ soft-spoken when she signed.

She wasn't a delicate Lady of the House, either. She made inappropriate jokes, burped, farted, had the occasional pimple, was a wiseass, couldn't seem to come up with the right things to say at parties, always got nervous when it came to public speeches so her hands always fumbled the words, pigged out on junk she shouldn't be eating…. she just, wasn't perfect.

She never would be.

Theta Sigma had made his sentiments clear before his hormones had taken over. He'd been very honest about her proper station.

Beneath him.

Her heart had hurt, and honestly… he'd looked like she'd felt.

She stopped at that information, reconsidering.

She'd been so pissed off about that information earlier, but now she was considering if he'd genuinely felt it. The man in her dreams would _never_ have spoken to her that way. His biting words had been out of a rage that perhaps she wasn't meant to understand. Maybe, just maybe… maybe he wasn't a bad man, and she was misjudging him based on a first meet, like Eliza Bennet and Mr. Darcy from that novel that they'd been assigned to read last week in Ancient Literature. Maybe his self in her dreams had been his genuine self, and this… well, she didn't know what this was.

Maybe he did deserve the pitied stares. Maybe he did deserve a second chance, now that the anger had released in her… he was, after all, young - hadn't she, too, made mistakes? Her feelings were just so messy, was all. Like being nineteen made her any more capable of sifting through this weird mixture of hormones, the tail end of puberty, and the beginning of adulthood? Seriously, fuck how many emotions she was able to feel at once, this was _awful_. She felt angry. She felt taken advantage of. She felt a whole _slew_ of awful, and she still didn't fully understand her connection to him. She'd expected to run into the man of her dreams one day, and for everything to click into place.

Apparently, life just didn't work that way.

He'd started it by being such a horrid person about her. If he cared for her as much as he'd claimed while she slept, shouldn't he have _known_ \- but, to be fair, he hadn't known that she was herself anymore than she knew that he was the him that she saw when she slept, right? Only sometimes while she dreamt, even. When she was a child it had been only when she had nightmares, and it had appeared that with him on the prowl, her nightmares just didn't happen as often. As though the woman in her nightmares was scared of him because he was Family, and powerful, and Family could conquer _anything_.

Maybe he just literally didn't know, and was feeling especially awful that he'd been so rotten to someone he cared about. That's how it had seemed to be. Unless of course, he was just saying 'no names' in order to make sure that she didn't know that he was who he was. That he was Theta Sigma. That he wanted her out of the house.

' _No names, Sweet. I can't know who you are. It's for your safety,' he'd whispered as he offered his shadowed hand to her, for her to shake, she presumed._

_**No names…. then what to call him?** _

Although in the case of neither party knowing, he'd just been this unimaginable bastard about a child he'd never met and had apparently ripped photos of her to shreds… which sent a sharp pain into her stomach. He'd actually _ripped_ photos of her. He'd torn them to bits, without even looking at her. He'd thought her so beneath him that he didn't even need to wait for a visual of her…. he'd hated the thought of her so much that she'd been that easily taken care of.

Maybe…. maybe he was regretting that, right? Her mind struggled to come up with something to soothe her.

This would be easier if he would just _apologize_.

But an apology wouldn't do much to make her feel better. She would suspect that Family had forced a dehurtful retraction from him, and that it wouldn't be genuine. How could she sleep now? He certainly wasn't welcome in her dreams, and he'd better not try any of that romance-the-knickers-off-her sort of stuff _tonight_ , either! She'd let him have it!

Mind full, heart empty, and stomach unsettled due to a mix of hunger and stress, she got up from her vanity She shuther tablet off, no longer showing her reflection from the camera mode.

Arkytior just didn't use mirrors. She couldn't trust them. They were in every nightmare, and she knew that she knew _why_ , but accessing the information was difficult.

She sighed in irritation, and figured maybe getting a bath before bed might be a bit helpful in making her at least feel washed off of the day. Sarah Jane always said not to carry today with her tomorrow. Arkytior had tried to do that on an emotional level, as she understood the wisdom of it, but it just wasn't something she could manage. So she did it physically every time she could, and if she was honest, it did feel better.

She became unclothed slowly, deciding to enjoy the feeling of every strip of fabric coming off of her body. She made it a ceremony when she was upset, so she could feel the day peeling off also, like she could strip anguish, depression, or pain. She kind of felt like a snake, shedding her skin. She ran her fingers over her face and considered whether she wanted to remove her makeup now, or come out of the shower as a raccoon-eyed mess after.

Fuck it, mess it was.

She suddenly heard a noise at her door, but it was not a noise that was familiar to her. It sounded like someone trying to pick her lock. Nobody in the Family would ever do that unless it was an emergency. She was nervous for a moment. She didn't know who it was, but she had a sneaking suspicion that it might be _Theta_. Her nudity became all too noticeable to her as she rushed for a dressing gown to throw on.

She wasn't ready to face him, she decided as she tied the front of her champagne colored silk charmeuse dressing gown that ended at her ankles. She wasn't even remotely prepared, and he wasn't going to get away with creeping into her room, either. She would set a harsh boundary that he would not soon forget. She turned toward the bed, abdomen tightening when she considered the last time she was nude near him on a bed. But that wasn't real, right? _It was a dream._

Her bracelet, which was now visible, held a charm that was a gold circle with a button in the middle. As she gripped it with ease in her other hand, she pushed the button and a loud click noise was heard, like a clicker used to train dogs. Instantly, the lump under her blankets perked up and two red eyes shone from the darkness. She pointed at the door, and made the sign for _danger_. A puff of smoke came from his nose as he let out a low growl, his entire body trembling with the power of it, eyes trained on the door.

Theta finished picking her lock, and just as he opened the door, a very pissy dragon snarled at him from the bed, running straight for him so fast he was a blur even to his owner.

Matches, for his part, had been waiting _an entire decade_ himself. He'd been promised, by Lord Gamma, that he would be able to destroy.

' _If anyone who does not belong in this house tries to enter this room, Matches, you attack them. You attack them in the most vile, evil, horrific way you can think of. You be creative, you scaled monster.'_

In Matches' opinion, that weird asshole with the victim complex didn't _belong_ in this house. Besides that, he _reaked_ of hormones that his mummy couldn't smell, and Matches didn't trust that for a damn minute.

That guy wanted to _mount_ her.

Not in _this_ life.

His fangs attached, and he both felt and heard the satisfying popping noise of them breaking through the jeans on Theta's thigh - _damn, missed!_ \- clean through the skin and sinking into pure muscle. The taste of Family blood was a new one for Matches, but he was always willing to try something new - bit of a foodie, him. Arkytior heard the sounds of cussing and bumping into walls from the hallway.

The loud _"GET IT THE FUCK OFF ME!"_ was especially attractive.

She smirked to herself and shut her door, keeping the baby dragon door open for Matches, just in case. She felt really justified, and mildly avenged.

She heard her sister in law's angry voice down the hall, demanding to know what the ruckus was - until obviously figuring it out. She began to shout at Theta for making Matches angry, giving him a big what for while Matches was obviously doing the same.

"STOP RE-BITING ME YOU FUCKING-"

There was a thump, and she was concerned about it as it sounded like Matches had been flung off, until the sound of his snarl told her to trust him.

At a howling noise from the Time Lord, Donna's laughter echoed down the hall, followed by Theta's demand that someone _fucking help him, it was on his arse_.

Arkytior walked into her en suite and turned on her bathtub, letting it fill with water. She knew she shouldn't, but she sat down in the cold porcelain anyhow, laying back and enjoying the feeling of the water coming up slowly to warm her up. As she lay back, she began to stroke along her thighs, deciding that if nothing else would help her decompress from the day, maybe a quick rush of pleasure might calm her down.

As she began to get excited and touch herself slowly, her mind wandered back to the dream she'd had the night before - was it so short a time? - and she couldn't stop herself from giving in.

* * *

_Her fingers twitched a bit, butterflies in her stomach as she was laid down on a soft bed… it felt like it was a giant down pillow. She preferred to be in her own bed, but this… this was nice too. Looking around for the familiar shadowed man of her dreams, she tried to get out of bed - but was stopped when she noticed the texture against her body was definitely not her pajamas. She always wore a pair of pajama pants and a random tee shirt with her sports bra - oh yeah,_ _**real** _ _sexy - but now she was in a silky, dress feeling thing._

_She bit her lip, looking down at the soft, short pink satin negligee she was wearing._

_**Boy** _ _, this guy sure had a lot of fantasies._

" _That I_ _ **do**_ _," purred the voice right by her ear, a sudden dip in the mattress telling of his presence, making her head jerk a bit. "And you, beloved, are in every single one of them."_

_She felt him as he slid his hand around her wrists, lifting them up over her head. He pulled out a thick pink ribbon that matched her negligee exactly, and wrapped it multiple times, but gently, around her wrists before tying it in a bow. When she tugged, she realized that he'd tied her to one of the bars on the headboard. Her stomach tightened a bit as a shiver of excitement went through her, but she wasn't certain that she wanted it to be like this…_

" _No…?" his voice lilted upward toward the end, curious, tilting his head._

_She struggled to move her hands for a moment. She couldn't see him, she couldn't speak to him… this was supposed to be different, right? Like, she was supposed to be able to touch him, to look him in the eyes…? Jeanne always talked about the best part being when she looked down at her own lovers and saw into their eyes while they were doing this._

" _Do not think of others when you are with me… it makes me want to erase them from your mind…" he whispered._

_She herself had no experience - not a lover to her name._

_She could almost feel his smile as she'd thought that in his general direction._

" _I will not do anything that you do not enjoy…" his breath was right by her ear, and his fingertips ghosted up the underside of her arm, bringing goosebumps in their wake. She wanted him to keep touching her… every time they began to touch, she would always wake up, and she didn't want to this time around. She wanted to feel him as much as she wanted to see him, she wanted him to know her. She wanted to know him in return. But for now she ached to be touched, really touched by him._

_Not in a dream but in real life._

" _Fuck, me too," he hissed, trailing his fingers along her collarbone. "No one else has touched you, no one else ever shall… You're_ _ **mine**_ _. You're meant for me, Rose…"_

_They'd given each other code names a long time ago, because they knew that neither was allowed to give out actual information… it would be bad, he had insisted that to her. He'd told her that he would never hurt her, he would always protect her, even from his own instincts._

_**I can't know who you are, or I will come for you. You're not ready.** _

_She hadn't known what that had meant, and even now she only had a baser idea in her mind. To be fair, he hadn't lied. She'd been a child. Now she was no longer, and she was ready for him._

_She thought._

_His fingertips slid along her collarbones, and a shiver came across her body, stronger than before. Her tongue wet her lips, suddenly so dry at the thought of them actually doing this._

" _Nothing that you don't want…" he breathed against her ear as he moved from her side so that he was on top of her. Something about the weight of him on her made her push her hips up against his, wanting to feel more of his body. The bulge she felt pressed against her core did something funny to her stomach. The butterflies made her wonder if she was nauseous or just really nervous or what the hell was she?_

_She did it again, for good measure, and gasped when it felt pretty…_ _**good** _ _, actually… her nerves had been pushed in a good way, and she could feel the throb. She couldn't see his face, which had bothered her more and more over the years._

_Now, it was intolerable._

_As she pressed against him again, he hissed a bit, inhaling through his teeth, and gripped her hip._

" _Patience," he breathed against her ear, before stroking her cheek._

_His fingers were a bit rougher, some callous to them, as though he did some form of manual labor for fun - because Founders knew how difficult it was for Family to receive wounds that stuck around long enough for even a hint of a callous… Her brother didn't have any sight of a callous. His hands were like a newborn child's in softness, something his wife gave him plenty of guff over._

_The Doctor's fingers continued teasingly, ticklingly moving along her body - igniting sparks of pleasure that were both too much and barely enough at the same time. He swirled his fingertips along her nipples until they were brought to hardened peaks, then gently mouthed the fabric, giving her the worst sort of tease. He continued this for a few minutes, loving the soft begging whine that came from her throat._

_Fingers sliding down her sides with more pressure, making her inhale deeply; he slid them up her thighs, no longer using a light touch. The seeking digits caressed all the creamy skin they could, his Time Lord mind filling in the way she looked most effectively. They suddenly moved across her lace knickers, and her head fell back, lips parted._

" _Mmmn," he let his pleased noise rumble from his throat. "I think…"_

_**Think** _ _?! She couldn't._

_His digits ghosted along the lace, creating more of that frustratingly pleasurable tickle. She simultaneously loved and hated it, the wetness building like a crazed itch between her legs. He made that sound again, his fingers becoming more and more damp as he went, before sliding down so that his mouth replaced his fingers._

" _Ah!" She cried out, the shock of change making her legs tremble. She fought with the ribbon, but it held firm, keeping her in place._

" _I think you like that…"_

_The smug_ _**git** _ _._

_She rubbed her legs back and forth, all the movement she was afforded. He hooked one finger in her knickers and used that to pull them off completely._

_As soon as he did, her nerves kicked into high gear. Even though he couldn't see her…. it didn't matter. She began to close her legs, but he was quicker, pushing them open. He tongued her labia first, collecting bits of moisture off her petal soft skin. The soft sounds she made, he knew she was tired of the tease… but he couldn't help himself. He dipped his tongue in between her folds and she was lost in the feeling._

_He hardened the muscle of his tongue to a point and began working her clit, feeling it out until he'd found a pattern that lost her to the feeling - it was the loudest she'd ever been, finally finding a voice, and this was how. He continued that pattern for a few minutes (or seconds or hours, hell, she didn't know) before switching to lapping lightly, driving her crazy. Everything was just made of feeling, and she was rocking her hips in response, something that he encouraged. There was nothing sexier than how mindless with pleasure he had her._

_He began to lap along the sides of her clit, getting to a spot with so many nerves that her sounds began to hitch. His game was to bring her all the way to the crest of her pleasure, and then to stop, making her thrash against the thick ribbons keeping her submissive to his attentions. He returned to running his tongue along the petals of her folds, paying only attention to the areas that drove her pleasure high._

_She kept thinking the word please until her mind was stuttering as bad as she did._

_He pulled back and let his fingers dance along her most sensitive parts, using her wetness to repeat that same pattern with her clit that his tongue had done, hearing each moan was like music to his ears._

" _Let me in… I want to feel my work when I make you cum…"_

_Her stomach tightened at his words, and she bit her lip._

_**Doctor…** _

_**I'll make you all better…** _

_**I believe you...** _

_She spread her legs wider and nodded. His finger slid inside of her velvet softness, and he began to slowly thrust, leaning down and replacing the fingers on her clit with his tongue again. He was switching between suckling on the bundle of nerves, and moving his tongue across it. He even grazed his teeth._

_He had to keep a strong, firm hand on her hips to keep them on the bed as he worked her expertly, curling his fingers as they exited, first only the one, and then two, her arousal giving him plenty of way. Her cries were louder and louder, and just as he sensed her coming to that crest, she gave him a plea that he didn't ignore._

_Her audible sob as she couldn't even manage one stupid word, her mind screaming out_ _**Doctor!** _ _was enough to make him ready to finish in his jeans like an untried youth._

_Her mind was ratcheted too high to think about anything else, though. Usually, she'd be too embarrassed._

_He finally took pity on her, and gave her what she needed to tumble over the edge. She could see stars - partially from holding her breath - her legs closing automatically. He could taste her, feel her as her inner muscles massaged his fingers, and while it made him calm, it also brought out the predator in him. He wanted her - he needed to find her, claim her, bite her…. she would have all he needed to feed on. She would have the sweetest he'd ever tasted, she would…_

_And just like that she'd woken up, their connection severing, her hair sticking to her forehead and her arms and legs aching from the position they'd been in for most of the night. She felt the embarrassing wetness between her legs, the sign that it had been real on so many levels._

As her eyes opened, she noticed the water was spilling out from the top of the tub and, cursing mentally, she began to sop it up with towels after shutting the water off. She scrubbed her body as clean as she could manage, and put her dressing gown back on, heading back to her vanity to put some lotion on her body.

* * *

The night before, there had been a Time Lord whose eyes had snapped open with ire for the roommate of his who'd woken him up to ask him a question.

His cousin was fortunate that he liked him enough to let him _live_. Interrupting a dream like that… he'd wanted to tear him limb from limb.

Currently, Theta walked with a bit of a limp, his pride far more wounded than his leg, which was already beginning to heal. The little shit, he'd make a hat out of him yet. Instead, he'd run off and managed to toss Matches into a study, shutting the door behind him. He could hear the creature jumping up and down, trying to reach the higher doorknob, to no avail. Scritch. Thump. Scritch. Thump.

_Good._

His soulmate appeared to be deadset on injuring him, which was quite the rotten response to him when he'd always been so _caring_ to her when she was hurt.

_I see you have become injured yet again, Flower. I will protect you. You do not know me yet, but you shall._

_**Who are you?** _ _Little Arkytior thought the words, and they streaked across her dreamland, becoming written words that could be seen by the Time Lord trying to enter._

" _I am your friend. Let me in."_

_**I do not have any friends.** _ _The thought was so instant, the way truth could only be in one's mind, and the words hit him. Her eyes burned at the realization that it was true._

" _I will be your friend. I will protect you from harm."_

_But she was unsure. What if he was going to hurt her, like She did?! She hissed in pain as her hand clenched, and the wounds on her arm flexed._

" _Show me your wounds. I will help them to heal." Theta insisted._

_**Are you a doctor?** _

But that didn't appear to matter now. All that mattered was that he was able to finally fucking talk to her. If she was suffering the same madness as his mother, and had somehow survived it for _ten years_ , then he needed to know how she'd done it. He needed to save her from it becoming worse than it was currently. He needed to get her in for testing, _immediately_ , and begin treatment! They hadn't figured out what it was with his mother, but they would figure it out from her and ensure that no one else caught it. He'd send her to the best physicians imaginable. He'd treat her himself if he could, but he didn't trust that he'd be able to find the cure for it. He'd thought he'd have more time.

He'd call Koschei, and get her brought in the next morning. Bright and early, she wasn't going to school tomorrow. She may have caught it there. She may have caught it _anywhere_ , nowhere could be trusted. He fingered his mobile in his back pocket by reflex, wanting to call his favored cousin and tell him about this. Koschei and Delta would see to it that this was handled, though. They were likely Borrowing now, and would not enjoy a disturbance.

If his father pitched a bitch about it, well… she may be _his_ daughter but she was _Theta's_ soulmate and possession was _nine tenths of the fucking law_ and he wasn't going to be bossed around by that old bastard _anymore_. He used to care about what his father had thought, like some absolute _sap_ , but he was no longer as naive and his father needed to realize that. He may have been raised to fear the power of an Alpha, to submit to it, but he was the new Alpha, and he would take over. He didn't have to listen to any of it, he'd earned his place, and he wouldn't just sit by like his father had in the end.

He'd just _let_ her die.

Theta wouldn't make that mistake. His soulmate was suffering from madness, so he would do everything he needed. Even if she begged him to stop, he wouldn't listen. He would cure her, and she could hate him later.

Later when she was better.

As he made it to her bedroom, he noticed that the door was no longer locked.

_Perfect._

As soon as he opened the door, a voice shouted at him - C'rizz's voice - to cease and desist, as he was not permitted on the premises.

He couldn't quite hear it the way he should have, it echoed off his mind because his senses were overwhelmed with the musk of arousal and orgasm. The hormones that had been dumped in this room sent his mind on a cloud until it was invaded by human testosterone. It was a bit of sweat from C'rizz, who was trying to grab Theta around the middle and pull him out of the room, barking orders at him to get out. C'rizz was stressed enough by the situation of having to corral a Time Lord, let alone one so belligerent as Theta, hence the nervous sheen to his brow. But that wasn't how it was to Theta at all.

The sight of his soulmate's nude form rushing to put on her dressing gown made everything feral in him ignite, and he snarled in fury. Why was his mate nude? Why was C'rizz in her room? While she was nude!

Why was there a smell of both C'rizz's body and her orgasm?!

C'rizz was trying to have his _way_ with her! He had interfered with his claim!

His fangs dropped and he launched himself at the bodyguard, who let out a loud shout of pain as he went down, the smashing sound of a vase that Arkytior had actually been quite fond of alerted the others on the floor. Theta grabbed him by the shirt and ripped him upwards into the air, slamming his body back down again. The deep inhale came from the ribs that instantly broke at the contact, Family strength too much for any human, and C'rizz not having properly strapped his vest on in his haste to get to the Young Miss's room.

McCrimmon ran up the stairs, calling for Braxiatel over his earpiece. Braxiatel didn't bother responding, he was already hot on his heels after him.

Matches beat them all to it, finally making it out of the room and bright red with fury. He was running as fast as he could, his claws clinging into the rug from how much he was ready to dig them into some Time Lord flesh, and smoke coming out of his nose like a steam engine. He let out a snarling noise with each step, a little beat in his head for how he was going to _crush_ _the Time Lord's sack_ when the sight the dragon came across stopped him in his tracks. It definitely was not one he was prepared for. Someone else was fighting Theta, and he was a bit jealous. Theta appeared to be winning, though, which would _clearly_ not occur if it were him vs. Matches, seated above C'rizz and using a grip on his shirt to slam his head into the floor over and over again.

Theta was shouting in Gallifreyan that he was going to _kill him_ and Arkytior was terrified.

Matches let out a loud roar, challenging the Time Lord.

Theta turned and looked at him, roaring in return. Theta's was decidedly louder.

"...Uhn uh." Matches muttered, shaking his head and defluffing his scales, deciding that this particular fight would be much better if it stayed between the two on the ground. he could kick the Time Lord's arse, he just…. had the sniffles n' stuff. It was fine. Really.

He scuttled to his mummy, who was hiding behind her bed, struggling to scream and only making hissing noises. She'd found a pair of knickers while she was hiding, and a shirt that she was struggling to put on, anything to get something on as a barrier from all of the eyes and chaos as she heard others clamor into her room.

" _THETA SIGMA!"_

Braxiatel. Praise the Founders on their knowledge. He would bring peace.

The sounds of brawling became louder and louder, Theta obviously violently rebuking all of Braxiatel's attempts to quell him. The smashing of her precious things did nothing to endear him to her, instead making her sob more, covering her ears as soon as the sound of a gunshot went off. Her hand was covering her mouth, tears streaming down her face as she kept trying to scream. The painful burn in her throat from her attempts was becoming familiar today. She stayed on her hands and knees, trying to keep out of the way of flying debris as Theta tried to rip C'rizz apart, while Braxiatel tried to remove Theta and the Brigadier tried to pull C'rizz's body out of the room to get him medical attention.

Matches was trying to cover her from the side, but everything went silent a few minutes later, a definitive presence in the room bringing the war to a cease.

Gamma looked at Theta's unconscious body in his brother's arms, Donna slowly lowering the cast iron skillet she'd used to do it. She didn't look altogether sorry she'd done it, more sorry she'd been caught out at it. He nodded at the Brigadier, murmuring assent to get the young man the best treatment he could pay for as he looked at his son with disappointment. He walked away from his son to where his daughter was on the ground, and gently lifted her up into his arms like he had when she was much smaller, carrying her out of her room entirely. She wouldnàt spend any more of the night there until the room had been cleaned up and his son under control.

Sarah Jane's wings were all fluffed and fluttered out of upset as she took in the scene, shaking her head and gently stroking Arkytior's hair. The girl was in shock, and while Sarah would love to help her out, she decided to stay behind and see to Theta. She walked behind the boys as they carried both of the injured parties out of the bedroom, C'rizz being carried princess-style and Theta being carried over Braxàs shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Sarah gave an order to one of the housekeepers to clean up the room. The look the housekeeper gave her was a clear _are you effing serious?!_ but Sarah ignored it, grabbing one of her bottles of herbs from her bag. If it didn't help any of Theta's injuries, perhaps she could whack him one with it, too.

She stroked Donna's back, seeing to her and asking her how she was feeling, insisting that she had put forth too much effort, as Gamma took his daughter into his bedroom, placing her on his bed. He pulled up her covers, gently, wishing he could spend more time with her but knowing that his leadership was required elsewhere. He decided he would not leave her in this state, and then pressed his fingers into her temples, removing all of her distress and sending her to sleep. He didn't enjoy doing that to her, she never reacted well to anyone changing her mind for any reason. The last time sheàd signed at him _**You canàt just go in and change my mind and not even ask!**_ but this time, this time she would understand. He kissed her forehead, tucking her in properly, and stroked her hair, breathing a promise that things would get better, soon. To have Faith.

As he exited to the hallway, he shut the door behind him, locking out Matches, whose scales bristled at him.

"Mi scusa, Matches," Gamma apologized tiredly, pushing the door back open. Matches crossed his arms over his chest and grumbled while he stomped into the room, waving off Gamma's raised eyebrow.

Gamma frowned as he passed Grace in the hallway, who gave him a knowing look. He sighed a very put upon sigh and followed her to the room that was holding C'rizz, watching as she began to get to work with setting up an IV. The chaise the boy was on couldn't be that comfortable, but he was too out of it to tell. Gamma reminded himself to replace that leather abomination in the morning, one simple thing he could do to fix _something_ in this household. He knew it would take a few hours for everything to be fixed, and even then, there was obviously more work to do with his son than he'd ever considered. Maybe he'd trusted too much, allowed his son to go too far off. He didn't know, but he blamed himself entirely. He should have tried harder.

His wife would have known how to do things.

He stood vigilant while Sarah Jane began the watchcharms. Each of them tinkled as she made them in the air, and he offered the type O he'd been going to utilize this evening for C'rizz, a high enough honor and a definitive sign of his remorse.

After a good while, the bones were reset into place and stabilized, wounds patched up, and blood transfused. C'rizz was going to be all right in a matter of days, and ready for active duty. The Brigadier had chuckled at the young man's doped up state, joking that he shouldn't return too soon, as he'd be giving up 'the good stuff'.

Some good natured ribbing from his peers about getting paid to lay in bed aside, Gamma finally permitted himself to sit back and rest his body a bit, coming up with a plan, idly, on how to begin to correct things.

* * *

Theta woke up within the first hour, fully healed and ready to fight.

What he found was that he was in a room in the wine cellar, one that was used for when the Family needed to imprison someone, or hold them for questioning. The Peacekeepers were involved later, of course, after the Family made their decision. Thick cement walls, reinforced with steel in the middle, and a door like a bank vault. Theta looked up, seeing that he was laying on a cement cot, his brother standing next to him. His upper lip twitched in annoyance and he growled at his brother, who only narrowed his eyes in response and moved his lips into a moue of full distaste. The way Theta was being stared at was definitely a way he didn't like. He didn't feel in control, and the echoes of his hormones told him that he _should be_. His cognac eyes were still blown as he watched Braxiatel, moving like a predator watching another predator, this time.

"Cheap trick, taking me out from behind," he murmured, off-handedly.

"It appeared to have been effective, in any case," Braxiatel responded, his voice in its usual timbre. "Almost makes me wish it'd been me who'd done it."

Theta snarled, but remained at a respectable distance. It wouldn't do to fight the other while his body had just completed its healing cycle.

"You've made such a warm space here at home, little brother. Insulting my sister, insulting our father, insulting my wife, insulting me. All of that would be crime enough, unbecoming of a Time Lord, let alone an Alpha… but then, after the absolute _spectacle_ you made of yourself at Academy you went off and made that… that… _scene_ upstairs-"

"Oh, _embarrassed you_ , have I?" Theta sneered.

"Embarrassed _yourself_ , maybe, although you're too bullheaded-"

"I'm in no way _embarrassed_ -"

"You damn well should be. You terrorized this family more in the last 24 hours than the Cybermen did to Eceulis 6 in a half hour. Mother wouldn't even be able to look you in the face."

The look his brother gave him wasn't just a look of anger. There was a seething hatred behind his stare, for a moment; although if it was pointed outwards or inwards was anyone's guess. His breathing was damn near hyperventalation, he was ready to claw Braxiatel's face off, for a minute. But he breathed, trying to calm himself down. It was easier without his mate's presences, if he were honest. Theta moved backward onto the bed and stared down at his fingernails, declining to answer further.

"You are nowhere _near_ prepared to run this Family. You are nowhere near the Alpha you should be. You are overly hormonal, and uncomposed, and not as sorry as you damn well should be."

Theta rolled his eyes at the chastening, patting his jacket for his smokes. Was this going to take all day? _Seriously._

"But you're going to be."

Theta's eyes slid over to his brother, finally meeting him exactly eye to eye. It was a challenge if there ever was one.

Daring him to keep talking. Daring him to finally give a consequence.

"You're going to stay in this room and detox until you're finally sensible."

Theta gave a sardonic laugh, shaking his head. Suddenly Irving was going all bad cop on him?! Pathetic. _Really._

"I don't care how long it takes you. I'll keep you in this cell for the next century if need be. But I promised you that you wouldn't harm her and you have."

"I never _touched_ her!" he seethed, furious at the accusation. "I _never_ -"

"You frightened her, broke into her room, destroyed her things, and brought gunfire and mayhem into her personal space. All of this, _after_ this afternoon. Theta, you've done _plenty_ to harm her."

Theta didn't have a good argument for that.

"So, I'm putting you on restriction for the foreseeable future. Starting now. You can come out when you can comport yourself in a manner more befitting of an Alpha. Sleep tight, little brother."

"You can't be _serious_. Irving!"

* * *

Braxiatel got up and exited the room, the door closing and locking behind him as he took his place beside his mate, whose arms were crossed over her chest as she stared at the video monitors. Her lips were pursed in thought, and she leaned her head against his shoulder, trying to comfort him. She knew how badly this was hurting him. He felt like he was being torn apart, like his Family was in tatters and ribbons at his feet and he didn't know how to sew it all back together.

_That's not your job, love. It's not your responsibility. You just have to perform your duties. But you stopped being responsible for your little brother when he became of age._

That was his mate... she always put things into perspective for him, trying her best to keep his head level. Somehow in their relationship, despite her being the younger one she had taken on a lot of older roles. She always wrote up all of their finances at the end of each month, knowing that it stressed him out. She always took care of him when he had a bad day, because it was difficult to understand him… for all that she expressed herself often and loudly, he would feign being perfectly content at a constant rate. She knew that he had fears, and she knew how to handle him. When they said soulmates, they simply weren't kidding. The woman completed him.

He leaned more deeply into her, nose against her hair and taking the scent of her in. She comforted him so much, her presence was always a balm to his soul. It was why when she was genuinely cross with him, he wasn't able to handle it. He leaned on her so hard as his rock that sometimes it blinded him to the fact that she needed him to be there for her, too. He was working on that. He was ever the work in progress, and she seemed to appreciate him not only for who he was now, but also for who he was becoming with each and every day.

_I do. I saw potential in you when we met, and I still do. Between that and your money, how could I lose?_

He smiled against her hair, and she held onto him for a while, just watching as Theta finally gave way to his exhaustion on the cot. It couldn't be comfortable, and as a Time Lord with enhanced senses, Theta would be only too well aware of that.

Donna sat down on the chair, pulling him against her. The couldn't both fit well, and he was half sitting on one of her legs. He was always afraid of being too heavy for her, but she waved it off the instant the thought crossed his mind again, letting him lean against her side. Braxiatel closed his eyes against his wife's shoulder as she scritched his scalp, ignoring his own tiredness for too long, apparently. He was awakened by her what felt like minutes later, a mental alert for him to check the video monitor. Pulling away from his wife and glancing down at his mobile, he saw the time showing that it'd been forty minutes. Why had she allowed him to sleep for so long?!

Looking up, seeing Theta shouting and throwing himself at the walls, yelling his brother's name over and over again, he was bruising himself severely in the process. The shock of seeing his brother brought to this level would have been higher if not for the rest of the events in the last twenty four hours. Now, it was like a caged animal fighting to escape. He was beating the door with his bare fists to no avail, only serving to break the skin and not seeming to care that there was joint showing. Had there been a doorknob on his side, he would have been trying to rip it off, for certain.

"What is he shouting about?" Donna asked, looking at the monitors more closely.

"He's screaming to _save her_ ," McCrimmon responded, calmly, coming out from the doorway to stand beside the other two. "It seems like a diversionary tactic, to me. Just wants out, the hormones making him ready to destroy anything."

"I'd normally be inclined to agree with you, but my wife says that he was reasonably calmed until five minutes ago…" Donna nodded in response to this, watching Braxiatel continue. "If it's a ruse, then it is. Either way, too much has occurred today for me to rest calmly with this. Send Trigger to check on Arkytior. I'll deal with Theta."

* * *

Trigger got the call to go and check on the Young Lady, and he immediately responded into his earpiece with a, "10-4, en route."

He knocked twice on Lord Gamma's door, seeing it was slightly ajar.

"Milady?"

No response.

He pushed the door open a bit wider, the soundproofing of the door being removed as he did so, a dull thudding coming from the room.

"Milady, are you decent? I apologize for the intrusion, but your brother has requested a health and safety check."

He entered the dark room slowly, still hearing the thudding. It was a constant sound, almost sounding like someone was pounding on a door. As he looked around, he could see Matches sitting on the bed, red eyes staring in concern off to the side of the room. Matches glanced at him, making soft, sad little growls as he waved his hands, trying to explain his issue. Trigger raised an eyebrow, and Matches pointed across the room, giving him an expectant glare. As his eyes adjusted, he could see the form of the young mistress in her pajamas, leaning against his Lord's armoire. She appeared to be… bashing her skull against it on repeat. Trigger's response was to sigh in relief, and call in.

He spoke into the earpiece. "Milord, I've found Milady. She's just sleepwalking again. I'm going to put her back in bed."

He walked over and waited a few moments to catch the beat of it before placing his hand, palm up, over the armoire doors, blocking her from bruising herself further.

"Shh, shh, shh…. it's all right, Young Miss," he murmured in a soothing tone. "Back to bed with you. I'll stay here with you until I'm relieved of duty."

He gently led her to the bed, helping to tuck her in and double checking on her head. He found that he didn't have to wake her up, and usually, when anyone did it would startle her. After tonight, she didn't need anymore frights. Just sending her back to bed usually did the trick, and this time was no different. She'd have a fine goose egg in the AM, but Lord Gamma would see to it, he was certain. It wouldn't do to have Milady with a marr on her face.

As he helped her into bed, he saw the shred marks on her forearms.

"Mithras _christ_ …" he muttered, making the Brigadier pipe up in his ear.

"What's going on, Trig?"

"Milady has wounds on her arms, sir. Seems like Theta may have gotten rough with her."

That got Braxiatel's attention. "Trig, take images of them and send them to me. Report any other injuries."

Trig took the photos and sent them to Braxiatel's tablet, who opened them the instant he received the notification. His wife gasped, and he stared at them, head tilted.

"I want Grace sent over there the instant she's finished. I don't want her scarring."

"Braxiatel, please," Donna pleaded with him. He was furious. His brother….

"He….. I never thought…"

"Brax, those can't have come from Theta, everyone said he never got near enough to her to touch her… perhaps she got them another way," the firm tone she used to stress the last two words made him close his eyes. He knew what she was hinting at. "You have to suss out the answers before you become both jury _and_ executioner."

He gave Donna a long look, trying to breathe. His brother was out of his mind, but this would be unforgivable.

"Her only other injury is a goose egg she'll have on her head. She was beating it against your dad's armoire, apparently," McCrimmon responded, giving Brax a look.

Braxiatel's nose wrinkled over that piece of information. "All right. Get Grace over there as soon as possible."

A glance at the cameras showed him some good news, at least.

Theta seemed to have calmed down, for now.

"What's in Dad's old armoire, anyhow? It's always been locked, as long as I've known this Family," Donna murmured as she stroked the back of Brax's hand with her thumb.

"Just Mother's old things. Things she couldn't handle seeing anymore when she fell ill. The rest is still in her parlor."

Donna nodded some, and just continued comforting Braxiatel as best she could, giving him physical contact without being too overt about it. Holding onto his hand, she looked up at Theta's form on the cameras, watching the stung look on his face as he paced slowly, raking his fingers through his hair. Braxiatel knew that it was a nervous habit he'd gotten from their mother, and at the rate he was going he should be balding soon. He kept repeating the same phrase, over and over again. She clicked the volume button, and suddenly heard him come to life.

"She didn't let me in this time… She didn't let me in..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just here to add another thank you to everyone who read, kudosed, and reviewed. Also to say that the next chapter will be mostly Lord Gamma and Arkytior, and it will explain Time Lords, and a lot of their lingo; things like Borrowing, and some of their history. It will explain things that Arkytior should have known a long time ago. It'll also set up some competition for Theta.
> 
> The next chapter will be out soon, I've already begun working on it, and my wife will literally kill me if I don't finish it.


	6. What Goes Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things aren't going too great in the Lungbarrow Household. They think they've figured out just what's wrong with Arkytior. Their treatment isn't exactly a moral one. Speaking of moral, Theta really oversteps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the warnings from other chapters. In this chapter, there is a nasty nightmare, and I must tw for memory swipes. Time Lords use them commonly in order to resolve situations to their satisfaction and convenience. This fic was re-picked up for FBFA, and $60 was donated to the Trevor Project! I am SO grateful to my beta and QUEEN! Gingergallifreyan, who put up with my Jackie Burkhart-esque whining and knows all of the Arky!secrets for upcoming chapters. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, thank you for not giving up. This chapter is very set up, next chapter will be very action.

_They stood at the edge of the cliffs, long past squaring off._

 

_Exhaustion instead seeped out of every single pore from the Followers, whimpering, simpering children that they appeared to be -- grown adults that they were._

 

_Bottom feeders._

 

_They were dressed in rags, sobbing and clutching at the folds of the gown of their Queen as the rain whipped around them with the wind, becoming powerful with each sweep. The Followers were struggling to keep their footing, but the Time Lords stood firm, as though the wind was nothing. Trees bowed back and forth, but the stare of their leader’s mate, Xi, was able to wither granite. Her daughter Nyssa stood beside her, eyes that were usually bright and beautiful now devoid of anything but a cold rage._

 

_A crack of lightning zigzagged the sky, brightening more faces and creating more sounds of distress as the prey finally felt how cornered it truly was._

 

_“Sorceress!” called out the leader, Kappa. “You are unwelcome in any parts owned by the Time Lords.”_

 

_The other Time Lords nodded as one, arms crossed. Gamma and Arkytior were among them, her lips twitching in disgust. Her fury was felt simmering under the surface, and her mate calmed her, but only just -- she was like a viper, ready to strike._

 

_The Followers whimpered in fear, coming closer to the cliff’s edge by mere terror alone. The Time Lords that stood there didn’t move, didn’t need to in order to intimidate her or her ilk._

 

_Pythian, they were called._

 

_Child eaters._

 

_They couldn’t be suffered to live, not after the kidnapping and murders of so many children in the neighboring villages._

 

_Consuming their hearts in order that the Sorceress could maintain youth and beauty._

 

_But the Sorceress had gotten greedy, taking way more children than wouldn’t be missed, convinced of invisible wrinkles and lines on her face. She was no longer satisfied with the random orphans living off the streets, no no. She had begun getting them from everywhere she could, inclusive of stealing from families in the area._

 

_She’d made a horrible mistake when one of her Followers had attempted to take a Time Tot._

 

_She hadn’t known, not back then, just how dangerous that could be. She’d thought there was no one who could challenge her._

 

_She’d been dead wrong._

 

_“I fear you not,” she announced, glaring at them. “I am the last, you see. The last human. The last of a line of those who are not owned by you.”_

 

_The Time Lords didn’t dignify that with a response beyond sneers and narrowed eyes. Ready for a fight, gnashing teeth and snarling lips, the predator in them was strong, and called for blood. Blood for blood, she’d almost taken one of their own._

 

_“You attempted to steal my son, Lady Cassandra,” came the sound of the Grand Lady Arkytior’s voice, the power within each word nigh on vibrating the air. “My only child.”_

 

_“A crime punishable by death,” announced Gamma, with a lot more calm than he felt inside. He sauntered behind his mate, eyes narrowing dangerously. Delta took Gamma’s left flank, Nyssa at his right. Teagan wasn’t far behind her mate, and Caroline stood off to the far right, waiting with her mate, Cave, to swoop in from the side in case of an escape attempt. Wilf was at the far back, injured from the siege, holding a rag around his bloody forearm._

 

_They’d been able to find Braxiatel before the boy had been injured, because the boy had defended himself against the Follower quite well, not bad for a Tot of Ten, and he had caused enough bleeding for the Follower to be near death by the time they’d gotten to the two. The Follower, pathetic and weak, had given up where the Pythian were hiding very quickly._

 

_Delta stared the Sorceress down, not even flinching as the rumble came from the sky, and the first drops of a freezing rain came down on their faces, misting his eyelashes. He only saw an enemy._

 

_“Your lack of fear means nothing, Child Eater,” Delta declared, and took a step forward. The Followers scooted back, some falling off the cliff._

 

_Their screams were all that was heard of them._

 

_The Family continued to advance, watching as the Followers, all but one, scooted back and ended their own lives, one a time, like lemmings. They didn’t seem capable of realizing that they were all pitching backward to their deaths, for some reason they couldn’t seem to connect one action with another. Likely, they were being mentally controlled by magic to the point of an inability to think beyond another thinking for them._

 

_It was enough to disgust Family, Masterminds who knew how to go in and out cleanly, whereas magic could be messy and unpredictable._

 

_Lady Cassandra stood a foot in front of the cliff’s edge, all alone now, no one left to fawn over her, claw at her, praise her for nothing. Her one remaining Follower was an older man, somewhere in his middle years, covered in grime and wearing a potato sack. He sobbed off to the side, looking like a caricature. She was like an infant being cooed at, and now she was jaded, staring down at the dirt and what was left of her dress._

 

_“I’m beautiful,” she whispered. “I’m so very, very beautiful.”_

 

_“A lovely corpse is precisely that,” the Grand Lady Arkytior responded with finality, walking closer to her, until they were right in front of each other._

 

_The Family had all come to a mental conclusion, that it was nearly the loss of her child, so she should be the one to confront her directly._

 

_“I lived beautiful, I shall die beautiful, and you cannot take my beauty from me!”_

 

_“Who would want it, earned in such a way?”_

 

_“I will get vengeance on you,” she hissed. “I shall destroy your pathetic Family with my own. My daughter will hate you, and her daughter will hate you, and so on until one destroys you!”_

 

_“Pretty words,” the Grand Lady responded. “But we have destroyed your entire lot.”_

 

_“Have you?” Lady Cassandra grinned, shaking her head this way and that in the madness overtaking her._

 

_“We have.” Delta confirmed. Phi and Psi nodded in agreement._

 

_“I am beautiful,” she shouted, “And my daughter will be moreso, and her daughter after that!” She held up a bracelet, one with a small picture dangling from it of a young girl. “They will steal everything of your House! You will know pain, and failure!”_

 

_“If I am to know these things, it will not be at your hand,” the calm demeanor of the Grand Lady only made the Sorceress more furious._

 

_“I nearly had your son,” she sneered, which made the Grand Lady stop a moment._

 

_Arkytior reached up, setting her hand on Cassandra’s shoulder._

 

_“Almost… is still failure. Your name shall never be spoken again. Word of your cult shall never spread, and no one shall know of you or mourn you. We will erase from minds all knowledge of you and your family. You will die nothing but a corpse, and hardly beautiful at that, when you see the sharpness of the rocks below. You will die in ugly shreds, and be left for the crows to consume. You will die as ugly as you lived.”_

 

_The Sorceress finally trembled with fear. “Wait, please--”_

 

_“Too late.” Arkytior breathed, and with one shove, the woman slid right off the edge, screeching until she hit her end with a loud thud._

 

_The Grand Lady stood there, soon joined by her Family, and they looked on. Lady Cassandra had landed face first, and her corpse was indeed gruesome._

 

_But the Grand Lady couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d perhaps been remiss to assume they'd gotten every single Pythian. Perhaps she didn't lie?_

 

_Somewhere, there might be another._

 

_Across the city, a small blonde child was being taken away under cloak of night. She looked into a small mirror compact, watching the exchange between her mother and the Time Lords. As she closed the compact in rage, her picture disappeared from the bracelet her mother wore,showing the image to have instead been itself a small mirror._

 

_“It’s Her,” whispered the Pythians around her. She liked that. Her lips twitched into the beginnings of a tight smile, always tight. Her mother had hated lines on her face._

 

_Her._

 

_A perfect name. As soulless as she felt._

* * *

 

A little boy was sitting down, waiting for his mummy to come out of the store. With brown hair and green eyes, he looked just like her, everyone said so. He was humming the song he’d learned on the radio that very day as he sat on the bench, wearing the uniform of the local elementary school, his name written across the back. Archibald. His mother’s information was on his identity bracelet.  
  
_Archibald McDermott_ , 6.5 years. Shorter than average. Weight range normal. Human, registered. New London Citizen since birth. Scheduled Baptism into Rassilonianity. Shows early propensity for strategem. Enjoys learning maths. Potential is low, human range. Future looks bright, in the Numbers Sector. Favorite pastime: Reading with his mother, playing with the family dog, Fenrick.   
  
Father: Deceased.   
  
Mother: _Rene McDermott, nee. Lewell_. Widow. 28.64 years. Average height and weight. Human, registered, New London Citizen since birth. Far left leaning political alignment, Rassilonian, laborer in the Art Sector as a Historian. Favorite pastime: Cooking dinner with her son, playing the drums, and reading him to sleep. Listening to piano music and doing yoga exercises.   
  
She’d asked him to wait right here, and -- glancing back at the store window-- he could see her making her purchase. They’d planned on fetching a Chinese before going home, because he preferred it to Raxacoricofallapatorian. She continuously forgot to fetch things, so this last minute pit stop was not outside of the normal scheme of things. The light from the stove was no longer functioning, and she’d made the mistake of remembering this after getting off work -- meaning it was time for the usual rush. Her son hated feeling constricted, and the store was packed like sardines. Letting Archie wait outside was just a no-brainer.

 

She glanced up at him with a soft smile, holding up a finger, and mouthing that she’d be out in one moment.

 

There was no reason to fear anything would be amiss.

 

Thefts didn’t occur, and child kidnappings were a thing of the past so long forgotten that the memory swipes hadn’t even been performed on this generation. This planet was often chosen for immigration purposes for precisely that reason -- safety, comfort, happiness. Easily forgotten were all of the reasons against so much control, especially for those who came from war-torn planets.

 

A generation that didn’t know war, famine, or most of the inconveniences of life from when most of the Time Lord Elders were but tots on the Original Earth. It was why Rene’s grandmother had chosen to immigrate. Rene had never known anything else but safety, and her grandmother had been memory swiped, so as not to contribute in any way to social discord.  
  
There was never a reason to distrust another. Not in the way humans on the original planet distrusted.

 

So when Archie heard a beautiful voice singing a song, he glanced up, walking over toward the alleyway where he heard it from. There wasn’t even a moment’s hesitation that perhaps he should wait for his mummy, because if he was gone, that was fine. She could find him. The Peacekeepers constantly patrolled, so nothing bad ever happened.

 

He slipped away, unnoticed by anyone else, searching for where the melody was coming from. He couldn’t help himself, really. It was such a lovely tone of voice, and the lilting tune beseeched him forward. His feet felt like they moved of their own accord, until it went silent. He stood on top of the metal sewer cover, searching left and right until he heard the swish of someone walking in heavy silk skirts.

 

Looking up at her, he was mystified.

 

He went right in front of her, where she stood, next to a dumpster -- wondering how she got in the alleyway to begin with. Most people in the central city avoided them unless they needed them - it was best to save them for workers who needed to be rid of refuse, drones who needed to do checks, electric workers, trash sorters. It simply was not the place to find a woman of means. She appeared to be frozen in time, dressed in such expensive, vintage finery. She looked like the queen in a fairy story, with a crown of crystal shards to boot!  
  
She reached for his hand, blue eyes sparkling at him, mouth moving as she started to sing again. He didn’t understand the words, the language sounded so foreign to him. He wasn’t wearing an auto-translator, because he wasn’t at school. But the words were so lovely, they sounded dreamlike. Oh, it made his blood rush in his veins, and his eyes saw only her. The sparkles around her body… was she sent by Rassilon to guide him? By the Other, to seek the Light of Mithras?

 

He took the elegant hand, covered in rings, and walked with her, mesmorized. She moved slowly, the multiple layers under her gown adding to her posture. He didn’t even notice that she had dirt along her skin, because to him she shone like the sun. Her skirts and dress looked brand new in his eyes, although to anyone else they were worn and even torn in some places, mushrooms growing along the hem. Moss decorated some of the jewels on her wrist, and the very smell of her was something of smoke mixed with rot.

 

Archie inhaled deeply, taking in a scent of softness and flowers. She reminded him of those sketches his mother was looking at two days ago. Avant-garde, she’d called it.

 

Her golden curls caressed her shoulders when she looked at him.

 

Soft, plush lips, the sweetest shade of pink he’d ever seen.

 

She was an angel sent from Mithras, he was sure of it.

 

“Little one, do you love me?”

  
Her voice was ethereal. It seemed to echo of its own accord. The question didn’t need even a moment. 

  
“Yes.” 

  
The words came from nowhere. He didn’t know her, but oh, how he loved her. 

  
“Yes, Your Highness,” she gently chided him, and he felt like the worst creature to ever touch feet upon New Earth. 

  
“Yes, Your Highness,” he squeaked. 

  
“If you love me so, little one, you must give me your heart. Open your heart to me, and only me.”

 

“Yes, Your Highness,” he replied instantly, not noticing as they passed through an abandoned mirror, leaning against a wall by the dumpster.

 

It was going to be recycled into something useful to society, such as a new window, another mirror, a compact for makeup, an art piece, or something completely new.

 

He didn’t notice the stench in the air, or the bones he stumbled over. Nor did he notice the stains on the ceremonial table she guided him to.

 

“Give me your heart, little one,” she pleaded, giving him a trembling lip, the sweetest pair of doe eyes she could muster.

 

“Yes, Your Highness,” he whispered.

 

When his mother looked back up at the window, she had no reason to suspect that anything was wrong simply because she couldn’t see him, but she did. She felt this moment of panic striking her, which made one of the Peacekeepers patrolling the sidewalk glance into the storefront.

 

It was the first time in her life she’d ever felt afraid, and she had no idea what to call the feeling coursing through her veins. She felt loss. She’d never felt that either.

 

But all of a sudden, she couldn’t breathe.

 

Running out of the storefront without paying for her things, she started whipping around, looking for her son.  
  
  
  
She screamed his name into the wind, and Peacekeeper Thanato instantly pinged for backup.

 

Social Discord, Level 2 -- Incitement of Panic.  
  
  
Two minutes later, Rene was asleep in the back of their conveyance, and everyone else who had witnessed it lost the memory completely. The purchases were returned to the store, and the shopkeeper’s dazed smile told Peacekeeper Mordred that he had no idea why he would have to restock.

 

After a search of the area, Peacekeeper Eowyn insisted on pinging the Unbreathing. A disappearance they could handle. A child’s corpse, they needed guidance on.

 

* * *

 

 _Getting out of the greenhouse had been from a blast of adrenaline that she couldn't explain, but the hallway seemed neverending, and the checkerboard tile floors began to change the further she ran. As she looked back, she could see that the tiles were morphing, one by one - no longer the black and white interchange, but now…. now it was turning into something silver… no maybe it was grey. It was…. the ceiling?_   
  
  
No.   


_It was becoming mirrored._   


_She let out a noise that was a mix of a cry and a whimper, mostly made in her nasal passages, struggling to move faster but her little body just couldn't manage it. It almost felt like she was going slower, her legs weakening and prepping to stumble._

 

 _No no no._ _  
_

  
_The hallway seemed to be chasing her. It became smaller and smaller behind her until it disappeared completely as she made it into a room, the door slamming shut and the sounds of the outside disappearing, for now._   


_In the room, there were multiple bookcases, their dark wood that would usually be a comfort turned into a cold spot in her stomach as the lights in the room weren't on. Papa wasn't here, going over his daily accounts and instructing Braxiatel about the next course of action for their stocks. His warmth was completely gone, and Braxiatel wasn't burning the midnight oil himself, either. She shivered, looking around, wiping at the tears filling her eyes angrily with her palms. She had to keep it together, she had to get to her father. He would help her, he would. Nobody was stronger than Papa._ _  
_

  
_As she looked around, she saw the fireplace and began to walk toward it, needing the heat more than anything._   


_Therein lie her mistake, because just as she came close to the back of one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, a gust of wind blew across the room and took the flames with it. Arkytior whipped around, looking at the windows, seeing that the shadows from the trees, barren from the weather so close to Yule, looked like spindly fingers reaching for her. They blew to and fro, and she felt her stomach twitch, trying to ignore the way it seemed like they wanted her, too._   


_As she exhaled, she could see her breath in the air, and felt even more unsafe than she had._   


_A sudden tapping began, a tapping that she knew, that made her stomach turn over._   


_Ta-ta-ta-tap. Ta-ta-ta-tap. Ta-ta-ta-tap. Someone was drumming long fingernails on something._   


_No. No no no._   


_The tapping ceased when she was suddenly grabbed by the arm, and she let out a loud screeching noise as she struggled in mental and physical pain._   


_The fingernails bit into her skin, digging the grooves deeper and deeper until blood came from her little forearm, near her elbow. As she struggled to wrench her arm away, the blood spread as the nails dragged down her arm toward her wrist, taking skin with them. The pain made her make a louder noise than she would have not too long ago, but being with the Family had taught her a life without pain… so she was more sensitive to it than she should have been._   


_"Stop making noise, you little ingrate!" snarled the sound of Her voice. "I fed you. I clothed you!"_   


_Arkytior struggled. She lies, she lies !_   


_The crack of a multi-ringed hand across her face temporarily filled her vision with a mix of pink and green from the back of her eyes, and left her starstruck as she hit the floor._

 

_She heard the knocking on the door, but this time she wasn’t ready to ask for help. No, not from him. Not from that… that… she suddenly blinked a bit, inhaling sharply as she aged to her 19 year old form in her dream, still wearing the same outfit, however. Her memory of what had happened that day had changed her dream, conscious thought permeating it. This should have made the nightmare disappear, but instead it satisfied the monster that plagued her._

 

_The monster allowed her teeth to show, now. Beautiful teeth, gleamingly white behind pink lips. She seemed pleased beyond comparison as she looked the girl up and down, eyeing her with scrutiny, but not with her usual displeasure. She was… content, in those moments._

 

_“There’s a girl…. show me who you are…” She breathed, before grabbing hold of Arkytior’s wrists._

 

_“You couldn’t hide from me forever.”_

 

_The words were ominous, and Arkytior’s stomach felt cold._

 

_She wanted help, but she could no longer ask, no longer think of how to invite the raging vampire who was bashing at the door with both of his fists._

 

 _“You don’t trust your doggy anymore, do you? Your lack of faith repels him from us.”_   


_She struggled more, using as much of her upper torso against Her as she could, like a dog itching its back. But She raised a clawed hand, holding it up to the door, and the splintering ceased._

 

_“TIME TO COME HOME!” she shouted, ripping into Arkytior’s arms as she pulled the girl with unnatural strength, yanking her across the room._

 

_Arkytior tried to scream in pain, feeling her skin split apart with a deep burn. She was too scared, she couldn’t, no!_

 

_She was being dragged toward a large mirror, Venetian style, extremely ornate. She fought it every step of the way, planting her feet on the floor and using her full body weight to fight against the tugging. The muscle was beginning to rip as well, and at this point, Arkytior was willing to walk through life maim rather than go anywhere with the monster underneath her bed. She got a burst of courage and kicked at Her, nailing Her directly in the shin. When Arkytior’s arms were let go of, she flew back onto her bum due to the force of her weight and the release, bruising her tailbone._

 

_This made Her very, very angry. She flew onto Arkytior like a woman possessed -- and mayhap she was, the young woman had never considered it -- and Arkytior flipped onto her front to avoid being hit in the face._

 

_Big mistake._

 

_She shredded into Arkytior’s back with those talons, tearing screams of pain from her throat. The force ripped open old scars along her voicebox, making her spit a bit of blood as the burns of her skin splitting became the only thing she knew, weakening the girl considerably until she felt something grab her, and heard a familiar voice._

 

_Papa._

 

_The dream splintered, cracked, and broke like glass, and She was no longer around._

  
_Instead, Arkytior was back to being a little girl again, and was lulled into REM sleep by the same song she heard every night, in her Papa’s rumbling tones._   


_The fingertips of his middle and index remained against her temple, protecting her until daybreak._

 

* * *

 

"Milady?"  


No response.  


He pushed the door open a bit wider, the soundproofing of the door being removed as he did so, a dull thudding coming from the room.  


"Milady, are you decent? I apologize for the intrusion, but your brother has requested a health and safety check."  


He entered the dark room slowly, still hearing the thudding. It was a constant sound, almost sounding like someone was pounding on a door. As he looked around, he could see Matches sitting on the bed, red eyes staring in concern off to the side of the room. Matches glanced at him, making soft, sad little growls as he waved his hands, trying to explain his issue. Trigger raised an eyebrow, and Matches pointed across the room, giving him an expectant glare. As his eyes adjusted, he could see the form of the young mistress in her pajamas, leaning against his Lord's armoire. She appeared to be… bashing her skull against it on repeat. Trigger's response was to sigh in relief, and call in.  


He spoke into the earpiece. "Milord, I've found Milady. She's just sleepwalking again. I'm going to put her back in bed."  


He walked over and waited a few moments to catch the beat of it before placing his hand, palm up, over the armoire doors, blocking her from bruising herself further.  


"Shh, shh, shh…. it's all right, Young Miss," he murmured in a soothing tone. "Back to bed with you. I'll stay here with you until I'm relieved of duty."  


He gently led her to the bed, helping to tuck her in and double checking on her head. He found that he didn't have to wake her up, and usually, when anyone did it would startle her. After tonight, she didn't need anymore frights. Just sending her back to bed usually did the trick, and this time was no different. She'd have a fine goose egg in the AM, but Lord Gamma would see to it, he was certain. It wouldn't do to have Milady with a marr on her face.  


As he helped her into bed, he saw the shred marks on her forearms.

 

She was bleeding. This wasn’t good.

 

Before he could do anything, Lord Gamma appeared in the doorway, and rushed over to his child, lifting her up so that her back was to his chest, scooting against the headboard.

 

She started physically struggling, a sudden scream coming from her -- this girl who hardly ever made a noise. Gamma gasped, and Trigger caught the look on his face. He was tense, unsettled by the brief glimpse into something he shouldn’t have seen. Looking down below, he could see why. The Young Lady was bleeding from her back, all over her father’s expensive slacks. She screamed again, choking on her own blood. Trigger was horrified, and didn’t know how to help her.

 

That couldn’t be Theta. It couldn’t be.

 

Gamma hummed softly for a few minutes, a tune that Trigger recognized -- Sarah Jane would hum it in the kitchen sometimes, while cooking -- and the Young Lady calmed.  


Trigger just stayed, mouth ajar, seeing more bruises appear on her body. Her knuckles were covered in purpling red, the sides of her forearms and hands the same disturbing color. Gamma was processing as fast as he could, but his usual calm exterior was slipping.

 

“What are you staring at me like that for?” Gamma’s voice rumbled.

 

“I’ve just never seen you this way before…” murmured Trig.  


“You’ve seen me in disarray, surely.”  


“Yes Milord…. but never…”  


“....Never?”  


“.....Afraid….”

 

The dark eyes of his Lord caught his in the moonlight, and he caught the hint to get out, to protect the front door.

 

As soon as Trig left, it only took a moment for Gamma to lift his daughter up as though she were a babe, red, thick tears filling his eyes and blinding him. He rocked her back and forth, his body shaking with the sobs he refused to give into. As he stroked her hair, his fingers trembled, his eyes seeing her and his late wife at the same time. She’d suffered the exact same wounds, the exact same night terrors. She’d never spat blood, but it made sense to him with her throat injury, the sound coming from her was so close to the Grand Lady’s….  


He’d been convinced he’d protected her. He’d never spoken of her mother’s illness. It had no way of biologically passing to her.

 

He was calling Delta in the morning, the instant the sun arose. He wasn’t going to watch his daughter wither in front of his eyes, the way his wife had. He wasn’t going to watch the way Theta would wither as well. He was barely living without his soulmate.

 

Losing two of his children would destroy him.

 

He sat in front of his bay window, in the old wooden rocking chair he’d used to rock all of his children to sleep, and did it again, to his nineteen year old.

 

His youngest. His only daughter.

 

He rocked her back and forth, his fingers on her temples keeping her asleep, no matter how dead and mechanical the motion felt. He continued to sing, softly, watching the sky for first light.

 

“Before you go to sleep…. say a little prayer…”

* * *

 

_Arkytior blinked as she found herself as a little girl again._

 

_But she knew this memory well._

 

_She sat on the bed with Matches, blinking a bit as she waited for her Papa to put her to bed._

 

_As soon as he stepped in, he gave her a look of reproach, and it took her a moment before she remembered. Slipping out of bed, she got on her knees in front of the window and looked at the moon._

 

_She began to sign her prayer to Mithras._

 

**_Mithras, God of Midnight, here where we close our eyes,_ **

**_Look on us and protect us, all through the night._ **

**_Many roads you have…._ **

 

 _She blinked a bit, looking up at her Papa, who moved his hand a bit up, and then to the side. He repeated the motion, and she nodded._   
  
****

**_Many roads you have created: all of them lead to the Light,_ **

 

**_Mithras, also a…._ **

 

 _Her Papa helped her again._   
  
****

**_Mithras, also a soldier, teach us to die all right._ **

 

 _Her Papa had snorted at that._   


_“To die ‘all right’? To die for ‘what’s right’, piccolina,” he chuckled softly._

 

_She quickly corrected herself and hopped back into bed, smiling in comfort as the older Time Lord tucked her blankets around her, and kissed her forehead._

 

_He hummed softly, then started to sing to her. As he sang, he used the NLSL he’d learned, having chosen the song from so many centuries ago, on a planet his daughter would never know._

 

 _“Close your eyes, have no fear...the monster's gone, he’s on the run, and your Papa’s here…. beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful girl…” the way his hand swept over his face as he called her beautiful, it showed his absolute firmness in thinking of her that way._   


_She smiled widely, watching his hands and hearing his voice, it was so hard not to._   


_“Before you go to sleep, you say a little prayer… every day, in every way, it’s getting better and better. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful girl.”_   


_She started copying him, making the movements. She hadn’t learned ‘beautiful’ until just now. She’d never thought to ask. If she was beautiful. Something about the word had always held a malicious tint to it. But not in these moments._   


_“I can hardly wait, to see you come of age. I can hardly wait…” he seemed to stutter, forgetting the words to the song he was signing and singing based on a faded memory. “It’s a long way to go, to see you, come of age, it’s a long way to go...but in the meantime…”_

 

 _Meantime. Another new word that she was practicing. Pointing with both hands, that met after coming from her shoulder._   


_“Before you cross the street, take my hand...” the look he gave her reminded her that she’d forgotten to do so the other day, and had nearly gotten hurt. This had inspired him immensely, to ensure that no other drivers or people could be injured._

 

_After the incident, he’d made an executive order and had gotten a new system in place from some of the folks in the Transportation Sector and Engineering Sector. There was no light system at all to tell the cars when to stop and go anymore. The system was now in the cars themselves, alerting the drivers of when they could go. When the drivers had to stop, clear walls pulled up, protecting the pedestrians while they walked in the crosswalks and preventing cars from going. The walls themselves were improved upon over and over, until they weren’t dangerous to a car that couldn’t stop, and cars were improved upon so that they were mostly controlled by tech, unable to cause accidents. Then, once they’d crossed, only a small part of the walls lowered -- enough for the cars to turn in the lanes they could legally do so in._

 

 _“Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful girl. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful… beautiful, Arkytior….”_   


_She was fast asleep, and he stroked her hair, smiling at the soft braids that had been put in there by Sarah Jane. The fairy sure did love to decorate everything with flowers, he noted by the dead petals on his daughter’s pillowcase._

 

_As he stood, the change in weight on the bed woke the scaled one, who grumbled in annoyance and made some very rude claw gestures in his direction._

* * *

 

Gamma’s presence was hard to miss.

 

Especially for his daughter.

 

He could still remember the way she’d clung to him for days, weeks, months -- seeking the soft Bay Rum of his aftershave, the gentle tobacco, the spiced scent of mixed blood that only a member of Family who Borrowed would have.

 

She knew him to have strength, and whatever she had survived had been brutal enough to steal her memory and to leave her eternally fearful of it returning. He’d known about her nightmares, and had been foolish enough to believe that his presence alone had reassured her so much that they’d eventually died out. He’d been prideful enough to praise himself silently, thinking he’d finally begun to do right as a father again, to not mess up, to be enough for his children. Her needing him was a balm to his soul, for sure.

 

But now...

 

Now he had a sneaking suspicion that his son had been the one who’d entered her head space and fought off the demons that Gamma himself had wanted to fight.

 

He’d been eager to slay whomever was soulless enough to torture a child -- because to Gamma, it took a lack of soul, _Anima Vuota_ to commit such crimes _._ His wife had often referred to the demon in the mirrors as an Anima Vuota. But Gamma knew that there was no demon, it was all the ramblings of a poisoned mind, with acidic blood and no way to stop it.

 

The truth was that it was a type of cruelty that he hadn’t seen in over a century. Even the smoke in the Wastes that spoke of Twists, Fausts, Demons… even _they_ had _standards_. They didn’t usually pick off children, preferring to go for those who went to the Wastelands for a gamble, or something seedier.

 

He’d never been one to be bloodthirsty, but he’d become so at the thought of dealing with whomever was hurting his Family… but the problem was that there was nothing but feelings and memories now. He couldn’t fight a memory. He could erase it, but if he did so, he would erase part of his daughter. The other downside was that he couldn’t erase the pain of their mother without changing her fate in their minds, and destroying his children. His children were not dolls. They were people who deserved the right to their own thoughts and feelings.

 

He’d been a meek boy once, watching his father’s moves.

 

His father was a dominant Alpha who took whatever he wanted and damned the rest to Hell.

 

For his father, the world was filled with humans who were unreliable, unnecessary. Every little inconvenience performed by a human was insufferable for the Elder Time Lord, who had been around since the time of the Pythia and remembered it with great sentiment, or so he said. The truth was that it had been his pain talking. He scoffed up one side and down another, acting aloof, yet his father had been hurt in the worst way by Gamma’s human brother, and because of that had closed both his hearts and his soul to the concept of loving a human again.

 

Gamma’s mother had taken it with quite a bit less stride. He could still hear her wail that her son was dead, still see the crystalline tears on her face as they all stood on that hill, his older brother’s body burning in the night. Murdered by his twin, and left to rot in Capitoline grass, while the one who slayed him created problems by stealing the Sabine women. His father could have ended it, but he could never bring himself to kill his son as the situation merited. His son that he’d given everything to.

 

Remo, the slain, had always been softer, sweeter. More caring. Had taken the time to show Gamma how to clean and polish a blade, how to skip rocks, and told him stories. Romulo had never been so kind to him, often off bragging to the others about his prowess, making others feel small, and hunting -- whether it was for meat or women. Odisseo’s humiliation at the way his son had committed fratricide, and now had convinced so many men (whom hadn’t needed much convincing) to abduct and defile women from the neighboring towns should have fueled him to action. Instead it broke something in him that was never repaired until the day he became Unbreathing and lost everything that he was to those milky eyes.

 

A blessing and a curse. One Gamma never forgot.

 

He could remember it so clearly, as he was the youngest, and as such, perhaps had favored Theta more than he should have.

 

He’d thought the same thing that he knew Theta was thinking right now, that perhaps it was an illness. He’d felt the same rage that his son was feeling, screaming in the basement, throwing himself against those walls to get his mate to let him in, let him protect her. Gamma had done the same thing, in a softer sort of way. He’d fought against himself, and if he were honest, had spent more time in his wife’s head than he should.

 

He’d never seen the demon. He’d never heard the howling of dogs that she claimed were around. She would come to him with scratches all over her.... “from their claws, Gamma, their claws!”, marks that she insisted were bite wounds. He’d never seen a trace, in her mind or out of it. He’d never seen anyone in the mirrors. He’d never seen any single bit of proof, though he’d wanted so to believe her. He’d allowed the game to continue longer than it needed to. He’d pretended to believe her, even though every doctor had called her ill. They simply couldn’t name with what. The Family doctors insisted that it was her emotion; simply put, she had too many.

 

They’d recommended a type of treatment that was ancient, and abhorrent.

 

Brutal, and often used by males of yesteryear to create dolls of uncooperative females.

 

He couldn’t agree to it, although he saw the logic. Time Lord, it was impossible not to.

 

Refuting the diagnosis and suggested treatment, he’d dragged the love of his life all over the stars. He’d seen specialists the universe over. Too many of them had agreed. He, in his urge to protect and not give up on her, would not allow a treatment to steal the life from her eyes -- although it was already fading -- and pushed on, making calls for others to come to his planet when his wife could no longer travel.

 

Honestly, he wasn’t certain. He hadn’t been then, and he certainly wasn’t now that Arkytior was ill as well. It made no sense, there was no rhyme or reason as to how the two illnesses could possibly match. If it was his wife’s emotions as a Time Lady, how could that pass to his human child? If it were an illness that could be contracted by both human and Time Lord alike, how had Gamma not caught it from his daughter? If it were only to those who were born biologically female, how had Donna not suffered? Or Sarah Jane, for that matter?

 

He was befuddled by a years old problem, a mystery he’d been permitting himself to forget. He couldn’t anymore.

 

Sitting there, stroking her soft blonde hair, and seeing the first break of day coming through the skyline had been a relief he hadn’t felt in so long.

 

In the early light of morning he was left wondering at his own ineptitude as a father. Every parent worth their salt blamed themselves for every wound, every sniffle, every tear, every hunger pang. Every moment they could have simply known, and saved them from.

 

He dialed Delta, who picked up a few moments later.

 

“Gamma? What is it? I was about to do Tai Chi.”

 

“I am aware of your morning routine, Old Friend.”

 

Delta caught the pain in his tone. “Have you taken ill, Fratello?”

  
  
“Indeed I have not. I am wounded of an alternate nature.” 

  
“Would you enjoy that I exhibit a listening ear, and a tone of sympathetic acknowledgement?”

 

“Indeed not. My daughter is ill, Old Friend.”

  
“Is she now? Whatever has Young Arkytior contracted? Humans are quite susceptible to airborne--”   


“She exhibits the same signs as her mother, Delta.”  


“.....” The silence was palpable. “You’re certain?”  


“Of this, I would never consider making light. I am certain. She harms herself in the same ways, she appears to be using kinesis to do so. She is convinced of the truth of her dreams.”  


This was the logical answer. But Gamma wasn’t certain he believed it. It was safer and saner than admission to considering that a demonic entity might truly exist, and be committing such heinous crimes against one’s august person. That madness was done away with in the Old Religions. The Faith did not give a description of bad creatures. Only Light, and Love. No need to fear the dark.

 

If Delta heard his voice waver, he didn’t comment on it.

 

“I extend a sympathetic, de-hurtful response to your quandary. I am currently off-planet, but I shall return on Tuesday. Watch her for now, and if anything should become worse, bring her to my son. He will care for her. Other than that, do not give credence to her ideas, Gamma. The more you believe in them, the more she will as well. It can only bring harm. Simply tell her she has a doctor’s appointment with me on Tuesday afternoon, right after school, so that her day is normal. Use a dermal regenerator on any wounds, put her in her own bed. Nothing happened, Fratello. Nothing. Happened.”

 

Gamma closed the conversation not long after that, but he agreed with the logic. He removed her clothing, with Sarah’s help, used a dermal regenerator on the horrifying wounds (but not before photographing and documenting them for Delta), and then cleaned up the blood. She was back in bed, in a deep, restful sleep, with no sign of any disarray.

  
As he went downstairs to inform his son and daughter-in-law about their plan of telling Arkytior nothing, he ignored Sarah’s look of disapproval. It was easy, with his mind so full of worry for his daughter.

 

How long had she suffered? Years? Due to his inability to protect her, it appeared that years had been precisely that.

 

He’d given her everything, both because he loved her so dearly, and because he loved his wife’s memory so dearly.

 

Oh, he’d made his mistakes, but he’d thought he’d learned from them. He’d thought he’d finally done right.

 

But sometimes when one wanted what was best for another, one could go so very, very wrong.

* * *

 

_“S…..sp…..sp-p-p-p-p….”_

 

_Gamma continued looking over his numbers, dealing with all of the finances while Braxiatel was off on his Honeymoon. He was listening to his daughter’s attempts to read aloud, as he had been encouraging her to do for the past week. It took her hours to read half a page, but he’d been certain she’d improve with time. She just needed to nurture her ability until it grew naturally, of course. He knew that she was discouraged, but spending time with her Papa was enough to make her do just about anything, so she continued reading. He always listened so patiently, never pausing in his work, not correcting her too often. He figured this way, they would be wrong, at St. Omega’s. She wouldn’t want to find a friendship with a cellular phone if she was able to speak aloud._

 

_Sarah Jane shot him a glare of disapproval every day for the past week over this, and today was no different as she set his tea out._

 

_She wasn’t Arkytior’s parent, though, so she could kindly keep her Seelie-honest opinions to herself._

 

_“Ah…..ah…. ahssss….”_

 

_Gamma glanced up at his own tablet, set up on a stand like the computer monitors of old, which was on the exact same page as she was, marking where she was in highlight._

 

_“Has,” he stated plainly, before looking back down at his work. “Carry on, darling.”_

 

_Arkytior’s lips trembled, and she tried to repeat the sound multiple times to no avail. She tried to move on to the next word, but her Papa discouraged doing so until she’d gotten the sound right. He always did this, wanting her to learn, but she felt like there was a something lodged in her throat, she always did. Not speaking was the only thing that made the pain go away._

 

_Her eyes filled with water, but she tried to carry on._

 

_“Ah…..ah…..ahse….”_

 

_“Has, darling,” he murmured, marking a few things off on his tablet. That was paid, that was paid, that was under review…_

 

_She tried one more time, but couldn’t get anything out but a squeak. Papa Gamma repeated himself about the word, and the dam finally broke. She couldn’t do it, and on top of that, as much as she couldn’t speak when she was calm, she was less capable while crying._

 

_Gamma got up in an instant, dropping everything to go to her, but she shoved him away from her, not wanting a hug from him._

 

_She ran away, along the hall and down the stairs, straight to the kitchen and to the safety of the Seelie within. Matches glared at him from the ground, before walking over to the tablet that Arkytior had dropped and promptly peeing on it, scratching the lint from the rug on it with his feet, and marching off down the steps with enough flair that Gamma was left with an eyebrow raised._

 

_He was insulted. He was just trying to help his child._

 

_It’d been Donna who’d given him the talk. She’d respected him, yes, but had been unable to keep silent when she came home to Arkytior’s misery._

 

_She railed at him like no other. His daughter-in-law knew how to rake people across the coals._

 

_“You’re her father--”_

 

_“Indeed, which is why I would prefer that you question not my judgment--”_

 

_“Dad, you’re gonna destroy the self confidence you’re trying to build!”_

 

_“I would never!”_

 

_“Not on purpose, but you are!”_

 

_“She is merely experiencing the same frustrations that Theta did. He learned well enough!”_

 

_“He threw manuals into the trash receptacles! He tossed the manual for an antiquated mode of conveyance into a supernova!”_

 

_“He still learned.”_

 

_“She’s not Theta. You can't use her to make up for Theta.”_

 

_“Of course she isn’t! I would never! But she will learn all the same--”_

 

_“She can’t.”_

 

_“She is perfectly capable of overcoming this--”_

 

_“She isn’t! She’s not!”_

 

_“She--”_

 

_“She’s not capable, Dad! She can't do it!” Donna’s temper finally broke, permitting her voice to raise into a shout as she blazed on, all fire and anger. “She can't do it, and each time you ask her to do something she can't do, telling her she could if she'd just try more…. Each time you demand these things of her you make her feel not good enough. She's not every child, and she's not a Time Tot, and you're breaking her little spirit.”_

 

_Donna was in tears, and the words had hit Gamma like a ton of bricks. He’d been lying to himself, over and over again, convinced that he could simply guide Arkytior into learning; that she’d been a late bloomer. But now he had to come face to face with pure reality. Sign language wasn’t avoidable, speech wasn’t preferable, his daughter wasn’t just needing to catch up, because she never would. His daughter would never be able to perform the same as her peers, she… she was disabled, and it was likely permanent._

 

_Those words hit him. He could run all the way to New Scotland and back again, he could read for hours, aloud, in a commanding or romantic tone. He could perform just about any feat, but his daughter couldn’t. She never could. She’d run out of breath trying to keep up with the many things that only Family could do, she couldn’t read aloud or speak or scream._

 

_He looked down at the tablet, seeing the poem that she’d been struggling to read, and had never even gotten past the first sentence. He’d been so calloused, thinking that she wasn’t trying. He’d been killing her, trying to mould her into some perfect girl when she was perfect just the way she was. He was the worst sort of father…. he’d lost one child, and now was shoving another away due to his expectations._

 

_He’d let down his son, his daughter, and his late wife all in one blow of hubris._

 

_His eyes filled with the sting of blood before they streamed down his face, tears of frustration and grief all over again. His tears came down as he took a few moments to mourn all of the things his daughter couldn’t do, things they could never share. Things her disability would rob her of, rob their family of. The extra difficulties she would have during her formative years, which were difficult enough on any child. He wouldn’t be able to protect her from every soul who would look at her funny, or mock her, or think her dim._

 

_He would never hear her sing, or shout, or laugh loudly. He’d never hear her call out for him, shrieking when he lifted her up and spun her around, playing peek-a-boo, throw a temper tantrum, even humming. Childish shouts would no longer happen in his house from one of his children. There was so much communication that his daughter would not be capable of, and she would be cut off socially from most of her peers as they lost interest in attempting to communicate, if they even bothered, or thought her strange._

 

_He could give her the world, but he couldn’t give her a voice._

 

_He… he couldn’t allow this._

 

_His wife would concentrate on the ability, not the lack of ability. Thereby, he had to do something to help her._

 

_That day, he’d penned a decree and money changed hands where necessary, requiring all citizens of the New United Kingdom to learn sign, and use as needed._

 

_It would take time to implement, but it would help his daughter. At the very least, starting Monday, all citizens of New London were beginning classes. She would be able to speak to everyone._

 

_His wife had always said that if your things couldn’t fit into a box, instead of changing your things, perhaps it’d be best to change the box._

 

_So he had._

* * *

 

The hardest part about waking up in the morning was remembering everything from the night before that one had tried to forget.

 

Sleep could be a balm to one’s soul, especially when falling asleep crying. A brief form of death, an escape, at least usually. Sometimes, as was in the blonde’s case, it was a place where she had never been less safe. She couldn’t explain why that creature had been trying to kill her ever since she could remember. She didn’t know why Theta had protected her all of these years just to secretly hate her. Had she been a game? Some way for him to prove both that she didn’t belong in his Family, and that she was only good enough for one thing? That he would slake his carnal needs on her, but…

 

But that didn’t make sense.

 

If that had been all he’d wanted, why did he bother with her during her Coming Up Years? If that’d been all he’d wanted, why did he read to her, express his thoughts? For a Time Lord, sure, her tiny life had to be like the blink of an eye. She’d heard Braxiatel in a huff over the fact that she would die so soon. But even that seemed like a waste of time to her. Here she was, struggling to make sense of something that just _didn’t._ Trying to pick up one’s pieces after a betrayal was hard for even those with plenty of experience, and she felt like she had nothing to pull from. Her Papa never permitted her to suffer for any reason, and thus she was trapped, fighting to find happiness.

 

Just like she’d been taught to do. Her Papa had never told her that she should only be happy, but never allowing her sadness didn’t exactly lead to a different thought pattern.

 

She clicked the button on a small tablet next to her desk, selecting her outfit for the day.

 

Her closet had been designed by her sister in law, who always seemed to have a touch for these sorts of small jobs. _Best Temp in New Chiswick!_ she’d always joked. The marble floors were cold under her feet, the elegant rose designs brought out by the soft ivory shade of it. The soft grey of the wood chosen to keep her clothing in place looked more like bookshelves along the walls as she pulled back the heavy, light pink crushed velvet curtain. Her shoes were all in smaller holders, and the variation of spaces to hang things could have only been sussed out by Donna. Organization queen. But oh, how cool it looked. She usually took a few moments to enjoy feeling like she lived in an Instafoto image. She’d even -- in her most ridiculous moments -- pose a bit, pretend that she was one of the people in the magazine applications.

 

But now, she couldn’t even concentrate on fun things. She’d woken up just yesterday morning for school in a land of excitement, dancing in her robe and swinging her hips to _Sip of Darkness._ The usual blue leather jacket the electroviolinist wore had been replaced by a mostly transparent blue plastic one, just this once. The violin was shaped in a strange symbol. It looked like a cave drawing of a person that held their arms up. The poetry being recited had made her spin around, holding her dress she’d chosen for dinner against her. She’d been excited to see how Theta would speak. The way Braxiatel spoke of him, she’d thought he must move his hands in such an elegant manner while using NLSL.

 

Not now. Now she looked at the dress and wanted to throw it out. He’d called her beautiful, but it’d only made her feel more violated. She was grateful she’d never allowed him inside of her body, but… she still felt things for him. Things that made her feel warm, but only until she remembered the nasty things he’d said.

 

He didn’t deserve any warmth from her. Not her mouth, not her body, not her feelings.

 

He was a Grade A double plus one JERK.

 

Her new shoes she’d bought with Amelia were forgotten in light of these feelings. Besides, he’d hurt C’rizz and thrown her room about!

 

Images of her dream the night before made her flush, and she looked at her arms. Completely clear. There wasn’t a single mark on her body, even though it felt like there should be hundreds. The claws raking into her back, arms, the way she’d been pulled across the room. Why was she pulling her toward the glass? Always toward the glass. The sharpened teeth and claws of the demon shone in the moonlight, her-- Oh, she needed to stop thinking about this! She’d never be ready for breakfast this way.

 

She clicked the button, turning on the most recent music videos to select from.

 

 _Lycanthrope - Tooth & Claw _ was at the top of the list. Martha Jones was a genius. Blue, pink, and black hair extensions that flew in the air as she swung her hair to the beat. Strong dark colors that made her skin glow, cute earrings that made noise as she walked. But Arkytior wasn’t in the mood to hear that right now. The second selection was exactly what she was looking for.

 

 _KK9 - Burn with Me._ Lilting tones, an electric violin, and a blue leather jacket. These were things KK9 was known for, along with that candyfloss pink bob cut, sweet cognac eyes, lack of metallic … you’d just never expect her to be able to destroy someone the way she could. Her latest album was called Rx Scuro, and Matches was deadly in love with her. Looking down as the video played, she saw her dragon sighing in amore as he stared at the screen, snout in his claws.

 

KTR was another good one, lately. An electric pianist, she had this beautiful symphony, five movements, called _All the Right Moves_. Inspired by young love, she’d said. Genius. Musical genius. Music was what she needed. She tried to dance a bit to the sounds, but she couldn’t get into it. The tones echoed along the marble walls, and she was about to select her outfit for the day when it finally clicked to her. Nothing was out of place. It was a morning just like any other morning in this household, she could hear all the same sounds that she would hear any other day.

 

...Why did her room look pristine? It looked like the fight between Theta and C’rizz hadn’t even happened!

 

She pouted her lips a bit, scrunching her nose. This was so odd, she didn’t remember anyone coming and fixing her room.

 

Oh, they must’ve done it while she was sleeping in Papa’s room. They just must’ve finished during the night? Maybe?  


A knock on her door startled her.  


“Arkytior, if you do not finish dressing for school, you shall be late.” It was Braxiatel. That was silly.

 

She opened the door, giving him a look. **It’s Saturday!**   


“Arkytior, do not be preposterous. You have never been one to give excuses for punctuality. Get moving, dear, and do make haste. Our Father would enjoy a normal breakfast with Theta Sigma.”  


She looked confused, and went to argue further when his fingers brushed her hair away from her eyes, grazing her temple and staying a moment too long. She blinked a bit, looking off to the left as she tried to remember why she’d opened the door in the first place. Braxiatel tilted his head to the side, giving her an expectant look.

 

“Arkytior, I am most serious. You shall be late for school. Please move, post haste.”

 

She nodded quickly, not arguing. Oh, she even had her uniform set out already. But, she’d forgotten to turn off her tablet in her closet. Oof. She was in pieces today! Why was she so scattered? …. Must be nerves about facing Theta after Friday night, and an entire weekend of him avoiding her like she had the plague.

 

….Not that she wanted to speak to him, right?

 

Tossing herself on her bed, she pulled on her knee socks, her shoes, her pleated skirt and-- oh cheese is kaas. Her Honor’s Blazer. The one she’d been so proud of yesterday. She flushed red, realizing that her regular one was dirty, and that she wasn’t supposed to wear it anymore since being given the Honor’s title. But now, oh now. Now _he_ would see her in it, and she’d worked so hard… eugh.   


When she looked at the clock, she exhaled in annoyance at the sight. If she didn’t hurry, she’d be late for school, sans breakfast.

 

She was greeted by all of the guards, with the usual ‘Good Morning, Milady!’, and returned a radiant smile at McCrimmon as he gave her a common bow.

 

“Milady, Chauncey will be ready to drive you to school in twenty minutes. You are being waited upon at the table.”

* * *

 

Breakfast started out very normal.

 

Everyone was discussing their day, her Papa was reading the news on his tablet, carefully chewing as he considered the words. He glanced up every few minutes, making a gentle comment, but seemed a bit off.

 

He was acting right, exactly right… but… she was being silly. It was just the fact that Theta was there. She’d never broken fast with him before.

 

Also, he was a force to be reckoned with.

 

“How do you find your quarters, Theta?” It was the Best Temp in New Chiswick. “If you dislike them, I can help you remodel!”  


Donna was trying so hard. Plus, that pregnancy had her itching to do _anything_.

 

“I find it…. passable. But a lot of things have changed in the house. So many things are missing. Antiques, the library on the third floor, the field I used for calcio practice got changed into a swimming pool. I don’t recall anything like that in your letters, brother dear.”

 

It was baiting. Brax inhaled, finding his calm. He would not be sucked into his brother’s sour attitude. He knew Theta was angry over the whole being locked in the basement for two days bit, but at the very least, he was being cooperative with Arkytior’s memory swipe. He and his Father disliked the concept of it. They didn’t ever adjust her mind… but in this case, her mental health was at stake. They wouldn’t lose her to the same disease that took their mother.

 

At least Theta agreed with that, although his reasoning was not one Braxiatel personally concurred with.

 

“What the Pythia happened to the stables, by the way?!” Theta snapped, glancing up from his phone to Donna and Braxiatel.

 

“I’m uncertain of what you mean,” Braxiatel murmured, an elegant eyebrow raised. He was nigh on offended. Those stables were _pristine_ , he inspected them _himself_ every day.

 

“The stables! You know, wooden things around back?!”

 

His attitude made Arkytior look away, as was proper to do, because she had never seen a Time Lord so unraveled, so often. He was _out of control_.

 

It was an embarrassment, to be sure. Jerk.

 

It also piqued her interest. He was wild. He made her tremble.

 

“Theta, you will provide clarification when you are asked,” Gamma stated, tiredly, rubbing the bridge of his nose before giving his daughter a gentle smile.

 

“They are in perfect condition! The wood is oft cleaned with white vinegar and oiled. One could --should he be so filled with the desire-- supp from the floor!” Brax stated, even more offended.

 

 _Well, praise Mithras you haven’t given into his baiting._ His mate was not wrong. He needed to calm dow--

 

“That’s the _point_ , damn you. Adjust that stick up your arse. You can’t hear the words coming out of my mouth!”

 

Braxiatel inhaled, sharply, eyes widening a fraction. Seeing him so upset, so often was uncommon.

 

Arkytior pushed food around on her plate with her fork. Theta was…. _had he no scruples?_

 

Brax’s next sentence, however, changed things. “I am in possession of exacting hearing and perfect pitch, _little_ brother--”

 

“Hear this, then, dickhead--”

 

 _Dickhead?!_ What the Founders was a-- she blushed, as she figured it out.

 

“-- where the hell are the horses?”

 

Everyone at the table instantly turned to where Matches was, sitting on the far end of the table.

 

Theta turned his head to where they looked as well, the sounds of happy, gnawing grunts and sucking noises coming from the dragon. The silence made him stop what he was doing -- stealing prosciutto from one of the serving trays -- and stare them in the eyes with a mouth that couldn’t quite close all the way due to the cheeks being overstuffed like a chipmunk. Damned if he wasn’t trying to stuff another two pieces in. Seeing that his time was running out and being under scrutiny, he gave up and painfully swallowed so he wouldn’t risk having to give anything back.

 

At the memory of the horses, Matches patted his stomach and scratched the scales lightly with his claws, a dazed, fang-toothed smile on his face.

 

“YOU SON OF A--”

 

“THETA!”

 

Somehow, in the split second it took Theta to realize what had happened, he’d grabbed a steak knife and was ready to carve her baby up.

 

Braxiatel held him back, and she let out a shocked cry, ignoring the pain of doing so. Matches running over to her (and incidentally, through three plates of food that would now not be eaten) and making loud whimpering noises as though he’d been injured. Arkytior lifted him up into her arms as he rubbed his head against her shoulder, and she stroked the ridges on his neck in comfort. The wounded look she sent Theta was the only thing that got through to him, and he stopped fighting to curse under his breath, looking away in shame.

 

When he glanced up, all he saw was her retreating form, and Matches’ smug look over her shoulder.

 

Two claws were held up in his direction, telling him exactly where to go.

 

Theta cursed and threw his chair back. He kicked the pillar next to the stairwell, stomping up the stairs. His Father’s voice was the only thing that forced him to turn around.

 

“Theta Sigma, you will not exit this room in such a disgraceful manner!”

 

His son snarled at him. Actively snarled.

 

“This is all _your_ fault!” he accused, pointing a finger and jabbing Gamma in the chest with it.

 

“I do beg pardon?”

 

Gamma’s low tones made Braxiatel instantly rise from the table. If he didn’t save his brother, he might no longer have one.

 

“Father, please--” Braxiatel tried, but it was for naught.

 

“This is all _your fault_ , old man, because if you had simply taken control of her and the situation, none of this would have happened. Arkytior needed a strong Alpha. She needed control, discipline. She’s instead flighty, disobedient. She craves the security that can only be given from an Alpha who knows what he’s doing.”

 

Gamma just stared at him with an elegant eyebrow raised. He was displeased, especially by the insubordination…. but he was going to allow his son to speak.

 

“Theta, for the love of--”

 

“I won’t allow your mistakes to kill my mate the way they killed _yours_.”

 

Silence. Nobody moved, nobody breathed.

 

Theta casually lit a cigar, taking a strong inhale. He’d already trimmed his morning pyramid, and if he were honest, he enjoyed the ceremony of it. Cigarettes were cheap and easy. Cigars took time, and were about flavor.

 

He wondered if Arkytior would enjoy that flavor.

 

She’d become used to it, of course… but ideally, she’d like the taste. Ideally, she’d want more. Ideally, she’d never have heard him talking like that, so she’d be in one of his shirts with no knickers, smoking one of his cigars while he enjoyed another flavor of hers.

 

No, it wouldn’t do to experience arousal right now.

 

“I’m doing things my way. We see that _your_ way has a history of a body count.” The point had been made, but years of rage made him enjoy drilling that point in.

 

He left, arse swinging as he did so. He was a bit too pleased with himself.

 

Gamma said nothing, merely excused himself with a glance and took to the library.

* * *

 

Arkytior sat in her last class of the day, feeling on the edge of her seat.

 

She couldn’t shake the odd feeling during the entire day. Not during her early morning class on Literature, not during her technopathy tutoring (she was the only technopath on record, so her tutoring was from a telekinetic classroom aide who just did their best), and certainly not now. Pre-Reeve (short for pre- re-evolution, what it was called before they’d moved from the Old World) Studies was one of her favorite classes. Just hearing everything about the way things were run before the Family saved everyone from these tyrannical things and notions. The world her brave Papa must have lived through!

 

The concepts usually befuddled the entire class, the more they had to explain. Things that simply didn’t happen, such as kidnappings, murders, children uncared for, car accidents, something called ‘jaywalking’.... she just didn’t understand. She was always fascinated, though. But the reality of these situations never struck anyone in the class. It was all so romantic sounding, like the stories of Camelot were.

 

She sighed, looking at her nails. She hadn’t even enjoyed lunch.

 

Hearing a pen click against a desk, she jerked her head up, seeing Amelia.  
  
****

**The professor is going to kill you!**   


Oh, cheese. She looked up, and the look of disapproval was actually more physical than usual. Oh, she was never in trouble! What was _wrong_ with her?!

 

“This _will_ be on the test! Now. The Palace of Versailles, everyone, this structure was a truly magnificent Pre-Reeve structure that was largely completed by the death of Louis XIV in 1715. Now, who was he? Anyone? Anyone?”   


When no one spoke up, the professor sighed and pinched his nose.  


“Homework tonight, find out who Louis XIV _was_ and write me a seven page essay on him. Now, continuing about the architecture.” He opened his tablet and sent a hologram into the middle of the room of the palace. “Now, we obviously have one that is in New France, built precisely to be it’s twin. The eastern facing palace has a U-shaped layout, with the corps de logis and symmetrical advancing secondary wings terminating with the Dufour Pavilion on the south, and the Gabriel Pavilion to the north, creating an expansive cour d'honneur known as the Royal Court, also known as the….. come on, people, did any of you read ahead like I asked? Arkytior?”   


She flushed, wanting to sink down into the ground. Oh, did she read ahead? Probably not, this whole weekend was one big blur. Like the thing with Theta wasn’t bad enough, now she was a homework skipper? She was the color of Amelia’s hair.

 

“I’m horribly disappointed in you, Arkytior! I’m shocked! This is not behavior becoming of a member of the Honor’s Society. Especially when learning about Family History. I’ll be sending a ping to your father about this.”  


She got stared at by everyone in the class, and wanted to die right there.

  
They were judging her so strongly, wondering what would make her suddenly spoilt. Her Papa would get that ping, and he would be humiliated, disappointed, and think… oh. The fat tears welled up in her eyes as she struggled to maintain composure and listen to the professor.   


“....Flanking the Royal Court are two enormous asymmetrical wings that result in a facade of 402 metres in length. Encompassing 67,000 square metres the palace has 700 rooms, more than 2,000 windows, 1,250 fireplaces and 67 staircases.The façade of the original lodge…”

 

She kept her head ducked down, a few soft tears making it down her cheeks. She still felt those eyes on her, but nobody said anything. The bell couldn’t ring fast enough.

 

She made it into the hallway, only to be instantly encompassed by Ace’s arms, Amelia right behind her.  
  
****

**What’s the matter? Not paying attention, not doing your homework? Arkytior, that’s not like you!** Amelia was absolutely right.   


“Exactly. Plus, we didn’t hear from you all weekend! That’s messed up. We were supposed to study together. Do you know what a pain it is to deal with Q.B. all weekend, alone?” Ace lamented, but it was obvious that she was more concerned.

 

You just had to forgive her.

 

 **It’s more an Ace thing to not do her homework.** Amelia smirked as she said it, too.

 

“Exactly. Don’t be -- _hey_ , excuse you--”   


Arkytior grinned, wiping her cheeks off just in time to see James Stone looking at her with concern.

 

“Are you alright? I saw that you were upset.”

 

She flushed a bit, looking down at her hands, shyly. James was so cute, and he knew it, too.

 

“I know the professor is pinging your dad, but…. if you’re not on restriction, I’d really like it if you could come see the band play this weekend. I know that I’d really like to see you there. I could introduce you to Martha! Plus, your boy C’rizz just signed to be our new drummer.”  


She tilted her head. **What happened to the old drummer?**   


“Rene? I dunno, something about finding a new purpose in life. But, will you come?”  


Looking back at Amelia and Ace, she got two thumbs way up on both counts. Oh, and they were being so obvious.

 

 **I will.**

  
“Great! I’ll ping you later, yeah?” He kissed her cheek and swanned off, the way only a rockstar would.

 

Ace waggled her eyebrows at Arkytior, who coughed a bit, walking out to find Chauncey and head home.

 

“So you didn’t tell us! How did things go on Friday?” At her blank look, Ace pressed on. “You know, with your brother?”  
  
****

**Oh! Theta is….**   


At the look of absolute shock on Arkytior’s face, Ace turned around. Expecting to see Chauncey doing something silly, or perhaps Lord Gamma himself -- just how fast could a ping go through, anyhow? -- she was instead greeted by a man in leather trousers, boots, and a black shirt. His long leather trenchcoat really set the bit off, leaning against a car and casually flipping a zippo.

 

He looked like hell. His hair looked mussed all to bits, and his tattoos didn’t make him look as cool as he looked dirty, at least in her mind. Who the hell was this tool? Although, the black Lamborghini Veneno he was leaning against might help him look more attractive. His eyes took her in, and she felt the power of one stare. Don’t mess with this one. He was Family.

 

He grinned widely, sauntering along the breezeway until he was right in front of her. One inhale of that scent and too many memories came to the surface. Dangerous.  


“Buongiorno, principessa!” He purred, using Gallifreyan casually while kissing her knuckles. He maintained eye contact while doing it, the rotter. “I’m afraid Chauncey has taken ill. I’ll be the one to escort you home.”

 

He didn’t even wait for her to respond, nor did he acknowledge her friends. He just pulled her over to the car and opened the door. Sure, it wasn’t ideal… but this was the only way he could win back her affection. What they needed was a little date, away from everyone else. So she could see his affections were pure and true, clearly. So she could see him for the strong Alpha he was, and submit to him.

 

Once they bonded, she would understand everything.

  



	7. Going Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theta Sigma takes Arkytior out. It goes about as well as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so, so much to Gingergallifreyan and Pipertennant, without whom my writing wouldn't be possible. Thank you so much for your belief in me, and putting up with my manic writing ways.
> 
> I should add a trigger warning for the Evil Queen. She is very violent towards children, and it is described. Not in extreme detail, but it's still there, and I want you all to take care of yourselves!

_ _

* * *

 

 

 

_The scratching of the rats as they scuttled about was the only clear sound in the room._

 

_A few shuffles came next, followed by a light cough. The fungus could, if one wasn’t careful, find its way into one’s lungs, growing, killing. It was sneaky that way. The slowest death, being slowly feasted upon from the inside out, one’s air being systematically robbed._

 

_The workers, little worker bees, moving things about as She’d requested didn’t realize that they were all dying. She had no reason to care, for She was immune._

 

_This place had once been grand, the kind of palace that millions would have partied in. She’d enjoyed many a drink in her day, of course, at the best courts in the galaxy. She’d tasted the finest wines, supped upon the most haute cuisine, and even enjoyed the decadence of the choicest desserts. A dalliance or two on her part had earned her titles from the grandest of leaders, and a false friendship here or there with the right Lady had ensured her earnings. She’d deserved more. The death of her mother at the hands of the Time Lords had taken all of her wealth._

 

_In order to take back what had rightfully been hers, it would take a power unlike any her family had ever wielded before. It would take cunning, discipline, and ever so much patience._

 

_But she could wait centuries if that was what it took. She had already waited two centuries. Every line on her face was the grave of some young thing. She’d almost had it, see. Her revenge had been so close she could taste it._

 

_She needed to become Queen. The title her mother had deserved. If she became Queen, she would be able to find and take a source to keep her young and beautiful forever._

 

_Oh course she’d hunt, but that was for the joy of the screams those pathetic children made when their skin split and their blood spilled from their mouths. Some even cried for their mummies and daddies. That was her favorite part -- changing her reflection so she looked just like their parents -- or whomever they loved most. Then she’d consume them slowly, so they had to live through as much of it as possible. The cortisol was like a spice to their muscles from all of that fear._

 

_She’d spent many a night humming happily while carving into the arms or legs of one of the little runts like a chef cutting a steak. Her previous Huntsman had tried to stuff an apple in the mouth of her first kill, but she’d removed it, sighing in reproof, and smacking his little hand for it. Honestly, she was allowed to have her fun, and what was the point of being Queen if she didn’t? She liked the noises her prey made._

 

_Checking the mirror afterward, she could always see the lines had disappeared, her skin was full, supple, beautiful. In some cases, her virginity even had returned -- but that was when she’d managed to tackle one in its toddler years instead of past five. The purity of the flesh brought such interesting results._

 

_But when they grew older, they learned how to lie, to cheat at things, to make fun of things… their purity was gone. Innocence had a clock and it ran fast._

 

 _Her floor made a soft whisper as her skirt brushed the dust from it. Mushrooms littered her dress, and bits of moss and fungus lined the buttons. Her skin looked so supple and sweet, almost tanned against the stained ivory shade of her dress that had once been a pristine white. The gems hung heavily, and her hair’s barely there luster made her look more like a corpse freshly buried rather than a young woman dressed asthe living dead for Samhain. Only one thing in the world knew the truth of her, and she kept it well hidden. If anyone should get a hold of_ **_that_ ** _, well, that’d be the end of_ **_her_ ** _._

 

 _Pulling a sheet off her full length mirror, she admired the jewels along the rim. Every member of her family had been given a gemstone, and when they died, the gems cracked. Looking sorrowfully at her mother’s shattered stone, under which the letter C was carved, she knew that somewhere, among the stars, Lady Cassandra had to be watching her with pride, knowing she was doing her very best to avenge her._  
  
  
  
_Pulling away, she continued her routine._  
  
  
_“Magic Mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”_  
  
  
The response she was given was not as expected.  
  
  
_“Fairest in the land thou art, tis’ simple to see, but exist outside of it, doth one fairer than thee.”_

_She flipped around, clutching her crystal goblet so hard that it began to crack._

 

_“WHO?!” she screeched like a harpy, making her Followers wail and struggle to hide from her wrath._

 

_When she saw the beautiful brunette Queen across the mirror, laughing softly, with a beauty and kindness on her face that was unattainable for Her, she was livid. Jealousy filled her and set her on a rage. She howled, the goblet shattering in her hands from the force of her clenched fist. She began to pick things up and hurl them across the room, her Followers crying and struggling to get out of range._

 

_She grabbed her mother’s vase, and was about to throw it, when she stopped, catching sight of the mirror once again._

 

_The Queen had a King._

_  
_ _She knew of this Queen…. the amount of power to her would be enough to keep Her young and beautiful for a long time, even without her innocence, but children would work so much better._

 

 _Glancing into the mirror, she could see that indeed, the Queen did have children. Twin girls._  
  
  
The blankets on the girls had their names monogrammed, and She rolled her eyes at them.

 

_Biancaneve and Rosarossa. Stupid names._

 

_She could become the Queen, the Fairest, and have Eternal Youth in one fell swoop._

 

_But, in order to seduce the King and befriend the Queen, she would have to look beautiful for much longer…_

 

_The sound of a baby’s squaller echoed off the halls, and she rubbed her temples in annoyance. She’d lain with her Huntsman multiple times to create a girl child that could succeed her one day, much like her mother had done. All the creature seemed to do was cry. It was obnoxious._

 

_It was unable to be lived with._

 

_It was…. opportunity._

 

_A slow smile came across her face. Her Huntsman looked at her with adoration in his gaze as she stroked his chest, and ripped the jeweled dagger from his heart, the one that gave her total control over his mind and body. He collapsed to the ground without a noise from his mouth -- long dead, and finally able to rest._

 

_She twirled it coquettishly, almost dancing her way over to her daughter’s bassinet. The soft golden willowisps of her hair caught the slight light, and her blue eyes caught sight of Her. She reached up, to be held._

  
  
“I never was cut out for this ‘mother’ codswallop anyhow…” she murmured, and the knife came down.

* * *

 

Arkytior stared at Theta, and he raised an eyebrow at her. He had this smug sense of impatience with her, one that wasn’t present when they’d dreamt. Like he thought he was better than everyone else, and they were all wasting his time by breathing before he’d given them permission to.  
  
  
“Going to get _in_ , or would you prefer we _walk_ home, Principessa?”  
  
  
She scowled. She didn’t like the nickname _at all_.

 

Theta sighed in a very put-upon way, and walked over to the other side of the car, opening her door for her, and helping her in much against her will, his hand firmly on her bicep as he gave the motion, not being violent, but giving the impression that there was no give. She didn’t want to go home  but she didn’t want to make a scene.

 

Papa wouldn’t like a scene.

 

He was going through enough with Theta as it was -- she wouldn’t add to it. He was already going to receive the ping from her teacher…. two spoilt children was too many.

 

Amy looked uncertain, and Ace narrowed her eyes, watching it unfold, but unable to fight it. He was Family, and if she questioned him, she could be taken in by Peacekeepers and adjusted. She didn’t want that, but she would check on her friend later, to be sure she was all right.

 

Arkytior sat in the seat as a laser pointer on the car’s ceiling ran a design across her body, which became an instantly 3-D printed seatbelt, moulded to her body with pinpoint accuracy -- a safety measure brought in by family in order to ensure that the smallest amount of lives were lost via automobile incidents. The yearly average was four, worldwide. Family was working to change that down to zero.

 

She watched Theta as he got in, and casually clicked the button off. His car spoke in a monotone voice to him, and he casually ignored it.  
  
  
“It is against the law to disallow a seatbelt. Scanning your license information now.”

 

He turned the car on, and drove away, making Arkytior realize that he’d been parked in the fire lane. He had this Devil-May-Care attitude that might work when it came to other things, but… driving was a privilege!

 

The voice piped up again. _“Theta Sigma of Lungbarrow, the Peacekeeping Traffic Authority has judged your actions. For parking in the fire lane, we deduct 25 credits from your license. For driving without a seatbelt, we deduct 25 credits from your license. A Judge is overlooking your case as we speak.”_

 

He drove casually, one hand on the wheel, ignoring the very _real_ consequences of his actions. He stopped at the traffic light, but Arkytior had a feeling that it was only because of the foot thick bullet proof walls of pure Potential that rose the instant there was a red light, to protect the street crossing pedestrians, and the other drivers. The only cars permitted through the energy were those in the right to go. They crackled with energy if one looked at them too long. He drummed his fingers to the beat of the radio.

 

KTR. She’d usually be thrilled to hear one of her favorite artists. Instead it just added to the discomfort, because it reflected how much happier she’d be hearing her in any other situation.

 

She decided she would stay quiet and just let him drive her home. No fuss.

 

The car piped up, one final time. _“Theta Sigma of House Lungbarrow, your case has been judged and you have been looked upon with favor as the Alpha of Lungbarrow. Your credits have been returned to your license. It is requested that you show up for charity work at a date pinged to you, with the location. Have a pleasant drive.”_

 

It clicked off, and she felt some relief. Maybe now, he would drive like a responsible citizen.

 

The relief only lasted until she saw that he was driving the opposite direction from home.

 

She immediately turned to him.

**What are you doing?! Where are we going?!**

 

“You know, princess, waving your hands at someone who is driving is very distracting. ”

  
Just as the light turned green and the Potential disappeared, he casually lit a cigarette, tilting his head to the side a bit, before taking a deep inhale and hitting the accelerator the instant it was his turn. Arkytior assumed the only thing stopping him from running the red were the walls. The only thing stopping him from being a speed demon was the fact the car would not permit going above the speed limit.

 

**Please tell me where we’re going.**

She hoped that by being polite and moving her hands slower and more gently, maybe he would respond.

“I don’t understand a word your hands are saying. I never learned. Had too many studies, would’ve been a pain in the arse. Highly inconvenient to add too many more languages to an already academically heavy study regime, don’t you agree?”

She looked at him in shock. _Never?_ But the law-- she flushed as she felt a bit spoilt thinking that. For the longest time in her life, she’d just accepted that the laws were the way they were -- for the betterment of the people. But his comment made her consider that it might be an irritation.

 

She was inconvenient to talk to…?

  
She looked down at her feet, kicking them a bit. She didn’t know where they were going, but she knew that she felt a bit lower than dirt right now, and didn’t want to be in the car with him. She didn’t want to be anywhere near him. This wasn’t the man of her dreams, who gently spoke to her, kissed her, and told her about his day. Who talked about the history of the galaxy with a fascination of one who wanted to experience it for himself, who loved his medical books and just wanted to help people, after the death of his mum. This wasn’t the man who got into his science books a bit too much, and could ramble off at the mouth something fierce when he wasn’t trying to be Casanova. No, this was… this was someone else, he merely looked like him.

  
What was worse was that she was mightily attracted to his body, but… his personality left a lot to be desired. She missed him, even though he was sitting right next to her.

  
That must be how Papa and Brax felt, too.

 

He clicked on the radio, clicking past the usual podcasts - a live reading of A Pre-Reeve History, a romantic comedy, and her favorite -- _Closed_ . Her head jerked up -- she didn’t want a spoiler, if Gwen was going to say anything, she _needed all the gritty details_ \-- but he clicked it straight into the next channel. He was _one of those_ who couldn’t help themselves but to switch stations constantly until they hit a song they liked, and couldn’t handle a single advertisement.

 

It drove her crazy.

 

Her Papa would say, ‘ _Basta, stop, non ne posso pi_ _ù._ ’ He finally seemed to settle on KK9, which surprised her, because he didn’t seem like he’d much enjoy the violin. It seemed like such a happy instrument, and he was such a jackass.

 

She smelled something pungent coming from the vents of the car, which made her jerk her head upward, taking in the area they were in.  
  
  
The area she was disallowed in, ever since she was a child, because she’d had a panic attack each time.

 

The Warehouse District.

* * *

 

_Amelia enjoyed coming over to Arkytior’s house. It was very obvious._

 

_Also obvious, were the facts that as much as Amelia’s aunt made, it wasn’t enough to keep her precocious niece in clothing. Amelia grew like a weed and often ruined her clothing, so her aunt continuously felt like she was sewing. Arkytior didn’t really notice those things, being a young child herself; but Sarah Jane did._

 

_Sarah Jane noticed a lot of things, and was usually quite vocal with everything she noted._

 

_Not this, though._

 

_This, she decided to mention casually, to Lord Gamma, while she was serving him his evening Whiskey & Calf. _

_As she’d known he would do, he worked through exactly as many random gifts of clothing he could before it became obvious why he was doing it._

 

_Amelia was no longer flushing with happiness after the eighth new sweater, now she was looking a bit embarrassed. So he’d gone another route._

 

_Going behind the scenes to find out exactly what her aunt did for a living led him to Delta, his dearest friend._

 

_She was a nurse, but she could be a better nurse, a more important nurse, and she could be earning more._

 

_He’d calmly told him, over the phone, that this was one of his precious child’s friend’s mothers, and he had to look out for her. They needed to readdress the wages countrywide, of course, because if she was unable to handle enough clothing to match her growing child, that was unacceptable -- but he wanted her to be making enough to spoil her niece._

 

_To spend more time at home._

 

_They needed to rethink things, yes -- things shouldn’t be so well for the humans that they were showered with luxury, but they should never need anything. They should always have it._

 

_Delta loved nothing more than re-sketching the bureaucracy._

 

_Yes, give the humans more, so that they were equal with having everything they needed, but the separation of class still existed. Time Lords were still atop._

 

_He glanced away from his phone call as he watched Arkytior looking frustrated, and a little bit tired._

 

_“Carissima, what’s the matter?” he was concerned, and looked down at her through his glasses, resting low on his nose._

 

_Delta asked after her on the other end of the phone, but Gamma didn’t answer._

 

 **_This movie is no fun._ ** _  
_

_  
_ _She looked nigh on exasperated, which, for an eight year old, was always precious._

 

_“What is no fun about it? Shall you enjoy another one? The ratings said that it was consistent with your age group, and many found it most enjoyable.”_

 

_He stood up to change it for them, but she shook her head._

 

**_I can’t follow it. I have to keep telling Amelia what they’re saying._ **

 

_Oh, he felt like an ass. Of course! Selecting child appropriate films and shows had never been a problem for any of his kids, because they could all hear._

 

_Amelia could not._

 

_Just as his signing with Arkytior had become a habit, so had it with Amelia. But his mind just assumed the girls were the same. It didn’t hit him concretely._

 

 _“I have an idea. It’s something from when I was much younger, Pre-Reeve… this should make it easier for you both to watch films. These do not need explanations, they do not need you to do anything but read, and watch.”_ _  
_

 

 _  
_ _Both girls watched him speak and sign those words, and their eyes glittered with excitement._

 

 _He calmly set up a playlist for them to work through of Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, Harold Lloyd,_ _Georges_ _Méliès,_ _silent cartoons, and about anything age appropriate he could get his hands on._

 

_As he watched the look of wonder on the girls’ faces as they both saw films and cartoons that they could understand at the same time, just like other kids their age… without any translation responsibility unfairly placed on either one, without any hinderance… it was a warm feeling in his chest._

 

_“Tutto bene?! Gamma! Gamma!” Delta snapped into the phone._

 

_“Va boh,” he murmured in response, returning to his task._

 

_The girls were giggling now, watching Charlie Chaplin hop around on one foot, in pain, and Amelia was snorting a bit, her laughter showing that she was missing her two front teeth._

 

_Worth it. He never thought he’d see people enjoying these films ever again._

* * *

Arkytior was in the Warehouse District.

The place that she’d been found, while running away, on a cold winter’s night. Ghosts of memories struggled to take hold of her, but there was never a concrete picture, and so she was always afraid of everything, and could feel the pressure from all sides. She whipped around, seeing the street, and it changed in her mind to the dark, snow covered road where she’d made it to, after being pushed…. pushed, by Mamma. She loved her Mamma, who had done everything she could do to save and protect her. She reminded her of someone she could never quite remember. Someone safe, and warm. She felt it becoming harder and harder to breathe.

 

Her vision was becoming a tunnel, and she didn’t notice Theta stop the car, and set his hands on her. She tried to fight it, struggling and slapping his hands away from her as he reached up, making a half whimper in her panic that hurt. She closed her eyes and tried to get away, feeling claustrophobic to his touch, but then his hand came up and grazed her temple lightly -- not enough to enter her mind, but just enough to send an energy of calm that went through her veins and slacked her like a drug. She could breathe deeply, and his soft rumble in her ear reminded her of the safety of their dreams.

  
“Shhhh…. it’s all right, Rose… I’m here...”

  
He hadn’t called her that since their last dream. Since the last time she’d let him in, and his mouth had…. she flushed a bit.

  
“Shhh, shh, shhh…. you’re all right. What’s got you?” She shut her eyes, and let herself pretend, for one moment, that she was sleeping again, that the past few days hadn’t happened.

 

She melted into his embrace, and his eyes widened a fraction, before softening, holding her tighter and pressing his lips to the crown of her head. He breathed in the scent of her, took her energy into his being, and lulled himself with her pulse. Making soft shushing sounds, he comforted her, pressing his lips to the shell of her ear and feeling the pulse of a small vein tease the nerves on his lips. He ran his fingers through her hair, nails gently scritching at her scalp, making a soft, kittenish noise come from her throat.

 

She liked that.

 

 _Good_.

 

He pressed soft kisses along the arch of her left brow, and she gripped at the palm of his right hand, pressing her signs into his hand much the way she did whenever someone couldn’t see her -- when her Papa’s eyes were closed out of exhaustion and she was telling him good night, when she spoke to Charlotte, when Amelia and her were up to something sneaky, when she and Ace were talking in class, but pretending to pay attention -- when he murmured a soft ‘What?’ that broke her out of it.

 

He didn’t understand her.

 

She yanked back from him, and missed his hurt look as she looked toward the door instead of at him.

 

She needed to pull herself together.

 

He waited for her to speak, and the silence felt like it stretched miles between them. She was embarrassed all over again. She’d been trying so hard to forget about it, but now it was all back up in her face. Her lips twitched a bit as she forcibly stared out the window. No point in trying to communicate with him. Not that it would help even if she could.

 

He just watched her, keeping his mouth shut instead of any apologies on his lips, words of comfort, concern for her well-being. He was processing the situation, before opening his door and emptying the contents of his ash tray on the sidewalk.

 

He got out of the car, and shut the door, walking over to the front. “Are you coming, or not?”

 

Not. She wanted to go home.

 

“ _Well_?”

 

She made a showing of crossing her arms over her chest and looking away in distaste, biting her inner cheeks to ensure a rather sour look to match her actions.

 

“Fine. Suit yourself.”

 

Her head snapped to the front as she heard the sound of a door opening and shutting.

Did he just?!

  
He _did_ ! He _left her_ to go into some _bar_ ! In the _Warehouse District!_

 

She started breathing a bit heavily, looking from side to side. She couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but the smell was atrocious. The car was completely silent, and for once she liked it that way. She felt like a rabbit, scared, like she was being circled by foxes and not knowing which direction to run in. She heard the sound of demonic laughter, echoing off the walls. Or maybe it wasn’t demonic, it just sounded like it due to the circumstance and being down a darkened alleyway.

 

Either way, it sent her out of the car.

 

Steam exited a manhole, making a loud hissing noise, and that combined with the acrid scent of rotting… _everything_ … made her half sprint into the bar door, gasping for breath. Hearing the heavy wood clicking shut behind her, she adjusted her school blazer, fixed her skirt a bit, and threw her backpack onto one shoulder, hoping to look more composed when Theta saw her.

 

No chance. He’d been leaning casually against the wood of the bar, watching her out the window.

 

He raised an eyebrow at her, lips looking like they were fighting what the Brigadier would call a ‘shit-eating’ grin. “Find your way in all right?”

 

Oh, she wanted to smack him one like Donna would have.

 

“...You going to stand there all day?”

 

He casually asked over his shoulder as he took two drinks to a table, effectively walking away from her for the second time in under ten minutes.

 

She stuck her tongue out at his back, and followed him, a bit sullenly.

* * *

 

“Sir?”

  
Gamma looked up from his paperwork, seeing C’rizz in the doorway. “Yes?”

 

C’rizz looked a bit uncomfortable, and rubbed the back of his neck with his palm.

 

“What is it?” An elegant eyebrow raised. It wasn’t like C’rizz to not be forthcoming, but ever since his son had tried to knock the bodyguard’s teeth in, he could understand the nervousness. He would nurture it for a short time.

 

“There’s someone here to see you, sir.”

“I’ve no appointments for the day. Unless it is an emergency, they must make use of the docke--” He cut himself off at C’rizz’s look. “Who is it?”

 

“It’s Lady Mariachiara, sir.”

 

His blood went cold at this. His sister. He hadn’t seen her in centuries.

 

If she was here, it was definitely an emergency.

 

“Very well. I shall be down post haste. Make her comfortable.”

 

C’rizz pressed his lips together, rather than ask how to accommodate such a person.

 

With a wave of Gamma’s hand, he left to attempt just that.

Gamma walked over to one of his tablets, and clicked a button for the camera, so he could see himself. He watched his reflection as he meticulously adjusted his tie, twisted the diamond pin, brushed his hair from his eyes… everything unnecessary, but good to stall for time. After all, even vampires have to tie their shoes, right?

 

Closing his eyes, he could hear Mariachiara’s laughter, feel her nimble fingers poking at his sides to tickle him, hear her side comments about his mate after he’d found her.

_Oh, Gamma, but you’re so in love it’s disgusting!_

 

That combined with her crossing her eyes was just… so _her_ .

 _Ehila... I’m_ **_bored_ ** _, entertain me._

  
That girl could binge watch a show on Netflix like nobody’s business. Nobody should ever have that much free time, but damned if she wouldn’t always readjust her priorities. Even if it was to her own detriment. The Tarantella was her favorite dance, and she was famous for driving parents crazy by teaching Time Tots the Penguin Dance. He had a picture of her, in his heart, of her at a festival with them, shoes off (of course), a friendship anklet on, dark purple skirt down to her ankles and a white top on that was far too bright in the punishing Mediterranean sun. The cartoonish tiger painted on the side of her face with a dash of glitter for show just served to enhance her. She was being oh so classy as she ate pork and beans from a can, humming ‘Singin in the Rain’. She was always so interesting, and that was why they’d always gotten along.

 

Descending the stairs, the sight that greeted him was of two Peacekeepers, keeping solemn sentry on either side of his sister.

 

His sister was sitting on his gold velvet chaise, in a long white dress that fit her snugly, as though it was holding all of her parts in. It covered her all the way to a high neck, the ruffles brushing against her chin with every movement, the tight sleeves partially covering her hands. Her feet were completely hidden by the hobble skirt, and her pale face didn’t show a single hint of blood in her body, made even more lifeless through the white gauzy veil that was held up by fashionable ivory antlers. Gamma swallowed the unsettled feeling in his stomach as he took her frozen hand, ignoring the discoloration of her fingernails. He’d do anything to avoid looking into her milky eyes.

 

She was Unbreathing.

 

Everything that made her his sister was long dead.

 

The Peacekeeper to the right of her coughed lightly, calling attention to himself. “Milord, if you will. There has been cause for concern raised by the Unbreathing.”

This was new. There was nothing to his knowledge that merited an actual visit.

 

“We responded to a Public Disturbance today. It was a woman who was in search of her child. She was quickly hysterical. There were multiple humans that became equally distraught upon sight of her.”

Gamma frowned. A kidnapping hadn’t occurred for many years, so that couldn’t be it.

 

“I assume the child has not been recovered?”

 

“His _body_ was recovered, sir.”

 

 _Oh_.

 

Mariachiara was here to monitor the investigation, and report back to the Collective Unbreathing. They were one with time, they controlled fates, and they were very interested in how this had come to pass -- and how to prevent it moving forward.

 

She was here to ensure that Gamma did not make a mistake.

* * *

 

She was glowering, but sitting in the ebony booth with rich red leather to cushion the seats. The wood and leather was harvested in the gentlest ways possible, and was so expensive that of course it wasn’t a high market. The fineness of the establishment did not escape her notice, nor did the words that were written all along the walls, the random glow in the dark crests on booths and sections. This bar was frequented by Family.

 

All seven Family crests were animals. House Yana were Ravens, House Dvoratrelundar were Horses -- A Pegasus, specifically, House Noble were Bears, House Foreman were Wolves, House Declan were Snakes -- specifically, the Basilisk, and House Jovanka were Swans. House Lungbarrow was a Phoenix crest, the most brilliant one -- well earned. Family were the only ones allowed to tattoo those animals on their bodies. It was to ensure that nobody else could fool the masses into believing that they had any sort of power over them. Those who served Family long enough were given a specific tattoo, with the exception of the House Lungbarrow.

 

Every one of those who served them - Sarah Jane, the Brigadier, C’rizz, Jamie - they all got branded with a smaller phoenix to show that they were considered practical members of the Family. Arkytior wore a gold locket with the phoenix crest etched onto it. Everyone could see who she was.

 

She was sitting in a booth that held the phoenix crest, and took in the way Theta was watching a man strutting around with his beer, talking a very big game. She knew that look on his face -- he wanted to knock him down onto his arse. She wanted nothing to do with that, and began to pull out her homework.

 

If she was going to be here, she would be productive. This way, Papa would know that she’d not participated in any trouble. She’d been the good one. She was reading some of the Pre-Reeve history on her tablet, when someone sat down in front of her. Looking up, she found she didn’t recognize this man at all, but the way his eyes flashed a bit, he was Family. He was also completely silent, taking her in from nose to toes, but not in a perverse way.

 

“Hello, Arkytior. It’s about time we met. My name is Koschei.” his smile seemed genuine, and his face was very kind toward her.

 

The soft brown of his hair was trimmed perfectly, so that even though he was in a nice, fashionable taupe jumper with olive jeans, he still looked like he wore suits more often than not. Or maybe, that was just her experience with Family.

 

**Lucy’s brother?**

“Indeed,” he affirmed after a sip of what looked like a regular beer. That was odd, usually they preferred blood mixed alcohol. He glanced across the table, raising his eyebrows a bit. “...Homework?”

 

Before she could answer, Theta’s voice distracted her. He was clumsily racking the balls together to play pool, and then struggling to apply chalk to the stick, asking the arrogant human man if he wanted to play him a game.

 

“It’s my first time playing,” Theta stammered a bit. “But-but, you’d never know, you know? I can do anything!”

 

He was laughed at. The man laughed in his face. “Sure, fine, let’s play then. But I won’t go easy on you just because you’re some Time Lord with his thumb up his ass. This is the WD. _I_ run this bitch. 500 credits.”

  
Theta blinked a bit, holding up his hands in surrender. “It’s… a bit richer than I intended… but all right. Let’s make it even more interesting. A Family watch.” He removed a fob watch from his bag, offering it to the man’s greedy gaze.

  
At Arkytior’s gasp, he turned and looked at her. He shared a glance with Koschei, who made a moue of disapproval, but drank from his mug rather than state his piece. After over a century of being roommates, the cousins knew each other well enough for Koschei’s distaste at his actions and Theta’s plea to keep Arkytior company didn’t need to be stated as more than a glance.

 

“Hey,” the human challenger said, “Is that girl old enough to even be in here?”

 

“She’s not of your concern,” Theta answered quickly, looking annoyed that the man had even flitted his eyes in her direction. He stood with his stick at the ready, effectively blocking her from the other man’s view with his body. “I break first, or do _you_ ?”

“Hey, don’t get all shitty. I was just wondering, that’s all. Yeah, kiddo. You break.” He adjusted his belt a bit, rolling his shoulders to try to look tough. “You’ll need all the help you can get. I ain’t going easy on you jus’ cos’ you’re a Time Lord.”

 

“That girl’s _my girl_ ,” Theta said, voice calm, but the undercurrent of threat was nigh on palpable. “Don’t wonder about her.”

 

She turned scarlet at the declaration, in front of gods and everyone, that she was his. He didn’t appear ashamed at all, boastful of his mate, even though she was less than pleased with him at the moment, and hadn’t given him a thing. It muddied her feelings even further. She was just so confused, still trying to reconcile him with what she’d been presented with, and trying to decide between dream feelings and Family loyalty, just what kind of relationship she wanted with him.

 

With that, he broke expertly, letting his skill be his response for the ‘Time Lord’ comment, and as he did, Arkytior remembered seeing his trophies. Theta Sigma was a champion at pool and billiards. He… _oh_ , that wasn’t okay to do. It certainly wasn’t honorable. Papa would _not_ have liked that. The man was figuring it out pretty quickly, too, once Theta sank his sixth ball, and then pretended to scratch so that the guy got one measly chance.

 

Too late, his nerves were shot.

“Eight ball, corner pocket.”

 

The game was over, and as Theta was collecting his funds, she was looking up at Koschei.  
  
****

**Congratulations. On your graduation. I know you walked with Theta.**

  
“I did, yes. He and I specialized in the exact same field.” His smile was so soft, and she admired that. He reminded her of Papa, or Brax. So content, not at all feeling as though he needed to flaunt his ability.

 

**Medical?**

 

“Yes. My entire House has a fascination with the medical field. I was looking into beginning a job at the hospital in New New York in the next Autumn. I want to help people.”

 

She couldn’t fight her own smile. She was finally feeling relaxed in the dimmed interior, and had completely forgotten that she was where she didn’t want to be.

 

“What sort of homework are you doing? Anything I might help with?”

 

**Pre-Reeve History. The Fall of the Empires.**

 

His teeth were perfectly straight and white, and the next thing she knew, she was sitting next to him, hands going at a million miles a minute, discussing her essay and studies with a man who had enjoyed learning history and had such unique stories to put the different points into perspective. He held the stories of his father, his grandfather, and so on who were _there_ to see every Empire on the Old Earth. He didn’t seem shy to share them, either; treating her like she was his equal. The lack of strong sexual undercurrent showed her just how muc all of her muscles tensed when she was around Theta, kind of like when someone reminded people on a computer, phone, or tablet to stop clenching their jaws.

 

He was charismatic, and time got away from her to the point that when Theta slid haphazardly into the seat across from them, one leg up to cover the entire booth cushion and a hand slapped on the table, she nearly jumped ten feet in the air.

 

“I’m a good bit richer, not as good as I used to be, but I was only having fun anyhow,” Theta humblebragged, rubbing his painted nails against his shirt.

 

“So I see.” Koschei raised an elegant eyebrow, then turned to the young woman sitting next to him, slowly rising to let her out of the booth. “Arkytior, you appear to have finished your drink. Why do you not go and fetch another? You can put it on the Yana tab.”

 

She knew when she was being dismissed.

 

“She doesn’t have to _leave_ \--” Theta snapped, hackles rising, but she didn’t stop to listen to an argument about whether she should stay.

 

She got up instantly, and went over towards the bar, while Koschei inhaled deeply. Theta was his favorite cousin -- his best friend, and his roommate during the entirety of Academy. But when he found his actions distasteful, he had no problem telling him -- _usually_.

 

This time, his reprimands were halfhearted, mostly going through the motions.

 

This time, he didn’t particularly want him to stop being an obnoxious prick.

* * *

 

Peacekeeper Phi held onto a tablet, and with a click of a button, the room disappeared, converting into a hologram of the scene of the crime.

 

The rockiness of the gravel in the alleyway, the garbage overflowing in the dumpsters -- someone needed to fine the stores about this, it was _unacceptable_ \-- and with another tap, the scenery flew by as they caught up with where the body was found, on the ground.

 

The boy was so young, and Gamma had seen many a human die in his time. He’d seen so many, a lot of them children; and as he’d lived through wars, famine, disease, plague, and despair, he’d never felt more strongly about any policy but that than the fact that human beings needed to be ruled, not to self-rule. They simply didn’t have the means to care for themselves, and when they finally found technology, cures, answer and meaning, they used a difference of opinion, ignorance, and fear tactics to remove enough people from the sphere of influence in order to counteract the effects for days, weeks, months, years, decades, _centuries_ . Entire millennia spent _behind_ for the sole purpose of fear and greed.

 

Gamma flipped through the information, clicking part of the hologram and seeing words fly by him. Three cards were glowing green in front of him, like small ‘ok’ buttons. He clicked each of the three in turn, finding out information, and then whooshing them away with the x.

 

_Archibald McDermott, 6.5 years. Shorter than average. Weight range normal. Human, registered. New London Citizen since birth. Scheduled Baptism into Rassilonianity. Shows early propensity for strategem. Enjoys learning maths. Potential is low, human range. Future looks bright, in the Numbers Sector. Favorite pastime: Reading with his mother, playing with the family dog, Fenrick._

 

_Father: Deceased._

 

_Mother: Rene McDermott, nee. Lewell. Widow. 28.64 years. Average height and weight. Human, registered, New London Citizen since birth. Far left leaning political alignment, Rassilonian, laborer in the Art Sector as a Historian. Favorite pastime: Cooking dinner with her son, playing the drums, and reading him to sleep. Listening to piano music and doing yoga exercises._

 

The boy’s funeral rites would need to be completed in the Rassilonian way. Noted. The small bits of information were important to Gamma, even though they hadn’t been opened by the others beyond name, age, and race.

 

For them, it was all about the job. They knew how to divorce themselves from the situation so they didn’t end up bringing their work home with them, didn’t end up shouldering the memories they took whenever a situation occurred. It had been done for centuries, millennia for the human race and multiple others across the galaxies. Any jobs that took a constant beating -- police, coroners, military, firefighting… paramedics, doctors, it didn’t matter. If you saw a lot of violence and death, you needed to divorce yourself from the situation. In Gamma’s mind, it was a need for a perfect line between unfeeling and uncaring. Where you cared just enough, but didn’t take it with you and spread the misery.

 

When Time Lords had taken over, the amount of children dying had gone down to the point where it was a perfect rarity -- and to the humans, it simply never occurred. Their memories were swiped to remove the pain. But Time Lords had to know the pain. They had to take it, shoulder it for the humans. They thought for certain they were more than capable of taking every human emotion and metabolizing it much faster than they did. For the most part, they were correct.

 

But sometimes, sometimes there was just more feeling to a Time Lord. Sometimes, a Time Lord was more human than vampire.

 

For Gamma, who had seen so many, who had lived for so long… it was still a pain. It still hurt him personally, in all three of his hearts, just like it always had.

 

“Milord, it appears that the child came to the alleyway of his own accord, but from what we can tell, his steps ceased right by the fence. He went no further, and yet…” Peacekeeper Psi frowned a bit. At Gamma’s head tilt in his direction, he continued. “We can find no sign of a tussle. No fighting, struggle, no blood… it was obviously not the scene of the crime. Only thing we found were claw marks on the bones, but they’re so tight together that this creature must be absolutely minute! There’s no way it could have done this in such a small amount of time.”

 

Gamma nodded, looking around the holographic scene. He was searching for any sign, anything that he could see to hint at how such a murder had occurred. The body of the boy was almost completely stripped of anything that made him recognizable. He still had a few patches of flesh, but all of the meat on his bones was gone, and all of his veins, his organs. Something had consumed him without a single spatter of blood. No teeth marks, no claw marks. The bones were nigh on picked clean where they were clean, and no matter how many passes he made over it with his eyes, he couldn’t find a single hint of how the child had died. Of what had taken his life.

 

He wanted to know. No, _needed_ to know. They would make this thing _hurt_.

 

Peacekeeper Xi said that he’d found marks on the femur that appeared to be claws.

 

They would send it to the Old Earth, to slowly starve to death. But even _that_ didn’t feel good enough. This thing needed to _suffer_.

 

Gamma wasn’t known for a violent nature, but this scene brought out the worst in him.

 

His son, on the other hand, was turning it into a textbook in his head. Braxiatel needed the distance emotionally, or else he would become ill just at the thought -- how could he help, but to compare that child to his own, growing in the safety of his wife’s belly? -- and he kept his remarks to himself as he moved along. The silence was so palpable, just the sounds of the crew collecting and scraping were grating on his nerves.

 

 _What are you thinking about?_ Donna’s voice was so gentle in his mind. _Whatever it is, stop it. That’s not our daughter. That’s not her._

He knew that. He did.

 _Just run through your thoughts with me. Work it through. You’re missing something, Irving. You’re missing something. Talk it through with me. I can help._ _  
_

  
Human beings, the human body, it went through extreme changes after death -- or it should , if it weren’t consumed. The body’s cells and tissues stop receiving oxygen upon the cessation of a heartbeat. Brain cells are the first to die, usually within three to seven minutes. Bone and skin cells survive for several days, on the other hand. Blood begins to drain from the capillaries, pooling in lower-lying places in the body, creating the appearance of pallor, or darkened patches along the skin.

  
_That’s right. Keep going, love._

 

 _Rigor mortis sets in about three hours after death. Whatever was consuming him would have to have done so quickly, in order to prevent that. But, the way his bones appear to be clean, with only the barest patches of flesh left…. almost left_ **_purposefully_ ** _. Left as though it was just to identify him. Left to cause further horror._

 

 _That sounds right, love,_ came the sound of his mate’s voice. _That’s horrific, but I can’t think of a reason anything that ate humans like a scavenger would leave perfectly good scraps of meat. Unless it was interrupted?_

  
_No sign of that. No sign that this was even the scene of the crime._

  
_Purposeful then._

  
He nodded a bit, and looked around a bit more. Around 12 hours after death, the human body lost all body heat, algor mortis. Then, at the 72 hour mark, rigor mortis subsides. They had an exact timeline. The death occurred within 5 minutes. 5 minutes between her no longer seeing him, and his body being found 90% consumed. No sign of an escape. No sign of panic.

 

How could something do that?!

 

Looking at the dumpster area, he could see the overflow of the dumpsters, a few stray bits on the ground between them, an empty wooden frame… and…

 

_Crunch._

 

He blinked, looking down, seeing that he had stepped on a chunk of mirror. He looked at the ground in front of his feet, and saw that the mirror pieces were strewn toward the empty frame like a glittery glass road. The break made no sense, the layout was too perfectly done.

 

 _On purpose_ , breathed the sound of Donna’s voice in his mind.

 

She was right. That was a message, it had to be. But what the Founders did it mean?!

 

 _Mithras Christ!_ he exclaimed, making her stop folding their bedsheets upstairs in concern. _I’ve found what I missed. The femur bone._  
  
_  
What about it, love?_

 

 _The markings. It’s not a claw, like Peacekeeper Xi thought._  
  
  
Donna and Braxiatel both said the same word, in different locations, at the exact same time, aloud.

 

“Fork…”

* * *

 

Arkytior stood in front of the bar, waiting to be noticed by the bartender.

 

She was over half done with her essay, thanks to Koschei’s help. That was exciting. She was so close to graduation, and not having to worry about it anymore. That was even more exciting.

 

Then, she could take her year off, before Papa insisted she go to University. She could be _anything_ , but she just didn’t know what that anything was. Everyone else seemed to have a good direction. She didn’t.

 

A ping from her Pear made her look at her phone. Oh, cheese is kaas, she forgot to check her notifications! Luckily, nothing important was missed. There were a few texts from Ace, asking if she was all right. She responded that she was. A few from Amelia, asking her if she knew how to perform a function in High Calc.

 

Then a Snapchat from Matches, of himself cooking a roast beef sandwich. Followed by a snap of Sarah Jane walking away with the sandwich, and putting it back in the fridge. Then a snap of her, with demon horns drawn on, and flames behind her.

 

She barely had time to giggle before being bumped into by someone very solid.

 

Looking up to apologize, the bartender behind her asked what she would like. She signed an apology at the strange man, but blinked a bit as she turned back around to make her order. Something about that man was… strange. She felt like she knew him.  
  
  
**One Shirley Temple, please. With Gelth cherries. On the House Yana tab, please.**

 

The bartender nodded, and, after sizing her up, noticed her phoenix necklace and did as he was told.

 

She turned back to the man who was beside her, to offer him a drink of his choosing for bumping into him, when his full look hit her.

 

He was wearing khaki breeches, brown boots, and a green tunic shirt that looked like the very design belonged… _somewhere_ … it was like deja-vu. Like a movie she’d forgotten she’d seen years ago. The design flowed in and out of itself like the weave of a ward, different shades of greens and browns making the top appear more olive than it actually was. There was a large gemstone that looked like it might be sewn into it, attached to his tunic above his heart. It couldn’t be very comfortable, like the pointed end must be eternally pressing into his skin.

 

Suddenly, she could hear a sound, coming in like echoes from a tunnel.  
  
  
It was the howling and baying of the dogs from her nightmares. She could feel the hot breath on her neck as she caught the shine from a buckle on his boots. There was something wrong. She couldn’t breathe.

 

She’d heard that sound, she realized, the entire time she’d been in the Warehouse District. The sound had been on the periphery.

 

A hand grabbed her wrist with a tight grip, and she jolted up, looking at this man.

 

His face was covered in scars, like a latticework of lighter shades of pink and white. There were bumps on his face, along the hairline, that looked almost like… mushrooms. There were green bits all along his sandy hair, as though it was moss and fungus weaving into the strands from his scalp. She knew better than to judge another species just because of a difference in hygiene, but… something about this felt wrong.

 

Jerking, she struggled against the grip, but it was iron. She looked around for someone to help, but everyone was minding their own business. She whimpered a bit, ignoring the pain in her throat, and fought a bit harder, giving him a watery eyed stare of confusion as the sound of Her voice from her dreams invaded her senses.

 

She couldn’t breathe, she was panicking.

 

 _“You’re supposed to be dead!”_ the man snarled. _“Dead, you’re dead!”_

 

 _That_ got some attention. The bartender finally took notice of the situation, and moved to the panic button, to call Peacekeepers. He couldn’t afford a dead member of the Family on his property.

 

“DEAD! YOU’RE DEAD! YOU’RE DEAD, DEAD, DEAD!” He began shaking her, screaming in her face. The pungent scent of him made her gag, tears streaming down her face as she tried to fight him. “SHE KILLED YOU, YOU’RE DEAD!”

 

The baying got louder, and she missed the shout from across the room. She heard the clicking on the ground of dog claws, swearing she saw a furry outline.

 

No. No no no.

 

“THE HEART!” he howled, ignoring the sounds of people ordering him to release her. “SHE ATE THE HEART! THE HEART, YOUR HEART, SHE KILLED YOU!”  
  
  
Memories from her nightmares of being held by Her, beaten within an inch of her life and ready to die came unbidden to her mind’s eye. A cheerful chortle, pokes with cutlery as She joked about fattening her up so she could slow cook both of the girls, so that meat would slide right off the bone. She’d never remembered those times until just now. Time to die.

 

“DEMON! GHOUL! GHOST! YOU’RE DEAD!” His rage seemed to grow, and the entire pub was silent, inclusive of the music.

 

“ _\--Famiglia_! Release… immediately! … for… or else!”

 

Who was saying that?

 

It sounded… like someone with authority. She couldn’t tell who, but she’d heard that voice before, she was sure of it.

 

He was shaking her until her head rattled, and her entire world jerked over and over again until it suddenly stopped, and she fell to the ground on her knees. Her stomach instantly turned over, and she ended up vomiting her drink back up painfully, the acid along her sinuses burning in the worst way. She struggled for air against the pain, taking a shaky, hard fought inhale, before feeling arms pulling her away from her own sick and into comfort. A glance up with watery eyes showed Koschei’s sister Lucille holding her, and a loud slam showed that Theta Sigma had tackled the man, severely damaging the room.

 

He was snarling, eyes nearly glowing, fangs dropped and face showing pure fury.

 

The man made the mistake of running toward Arkytior again, but Theta was ready, leaping on him like a leopard on a gazelle, and sending him back to the ground.

 

He wasn’t a composed member of Family right now, nor was he being a cocky asshole. He was a Time Lord protecting his mate. His mate, whom had already been injured and terrorized by this creature in front of him.

 

Arkytior watched this from across the room in a daze,the words of Her echoing in her brain.

 

_‘Come, My Huntsman, we have work to do... ‘_

 

The howling and baying got louder, until she could see one of the dogs, running for Theta. She struggled, but no one else seemed to see it. He shouted in anger and pain as the dog clawed down his back, another biting at his arm, and ripping into the muscle and flesh something fierce.

 

 _“KILL!”_ the Huntsman spat, angrily, blood coming from his torn lips as a tooth came out with his words. _“DESTROY HIM!”_

 

Lucille’s voice telling her to breathe and struggling to lift her arms above her head at her brother’s behest. Lucille knew Arkytior very well from her childhood, she’d been at her birthday every year since that first time. She rocked her from side to side, but the clamor was not making for a very calming situation.

 

She wasn’t able to communicate what she was seeing, and she turned away just as Theta backfisted the Huntsman, everything feeling like it was going in slow motion. She pressed her hand against the ground, feeling the burn of her skin splitting as a broken mug bit into her finger. Making it up onto both feet, she blinked as multiple Family members held high to their loyalties and moved to fight whatever the invisible creatures were, to stop them from making Theta bleed further. Another lunged at his neck, barely missing his jugular as he instantly twisted away upon feeling the hot breath. He was fortunate enough to have fast enough reflexes to do so.

 

“Get her out of here!” came the shout of Sofia, another member of House Lungbarrow. “Get her out!” This was aimed at Lucille, for Arkytior.

 

All Arkytior knew was how badly her hand hurt, feeling like she was in a tunnel. Everything else was going on so far behind her, even though the disastrous fight was happening only a few feet away.

 

People should have been clearing out, but it was like watching a car wreck, especially for a group of people on a planet that were never permitted to remember any violence they saw. They were rooted to the ground, unable to look away, no matter what their personal opinions were of the battle.

 

Arkytior turned her hand palm up, seeing a ribbon of red snaking its way toward the back of her hand, a crimson drop falling toward the ground. The splash it made as it burst on impact was unable to be heard by human ears, especially over the sounds of wood breaking, and shouts against the dogs that they still could not see. Theta stopped in mid motion, his rage turning into something else altogether. His mate was bleeding, he knew that smell better than anyone on New Earth.

 

But his mate was _unclaimed_ and bleeding.

 

It tickled his senses for .2 seconds before prompting him to action.

 

He needed her.

 

_NOW._

  
A voice shouted from the other side of the room, but it was too far away. She stared in a daze as he seemed to appear in front of her out of nowhere.

 

Theta’s fangs met flesh.  
  
  
Blood bubbled across his tongue.  
  
  
_Yes_.

* * *

 

Gamma always treated the parents with the utmost dignity.

 

Well, he always treated anyone who had lost anyone to violence with the most kindness and gentleness that he possibly could. He understood that they were going through something for which nobody was truly prepared, but even less so in a society such as this. He tried to give their last moments of burden with the memory some sort of meaning.

 

He always made it personal, he always put himself in their shoes, even though they wouldn’t remember him, or ever having a child. It was the principal of the thing. If he’d lost one of his children, he’d want the same dignity, and not some blase commentary.

 

Renai just sat there, having nothing left to give. There was no need, in her life, to find a single coping mechanism. Things went wrong, of course, but this was unheard of. She was completely numbed, an audience to her own life, seeing other people’s lives unfold in front of her face. Nurses and doctors were moving along the hospital hallway, their chatter just blending in with the echoes along the walls. Once, a nurse dropped a bedpan, but the cacophony didn’t even jar her. She didn’t even feel the piercing of an IV moulding with her body, the squeeze of the cuff reading her BP, the words being spoken to her meant nothing. Her son was dead. Somehow, during the two seconds she’d looked away, he’d been abducted -- _who would do such a thing?_ \-- and eaten. Had he cried her name? Had he wanted her help? She hadn’t been there, for such a _stupid_ reason. He was all that mattered, and now, what meaning did her life have?

 

Lycanthrope? How could she play the drums now? Her son was her inspiration.

 

She wanted to _die_.

 

The curtain was pulled back, and she saw Lord Lungbarrow in front of her bed. Of course he was here, this was unprecedented, and had happened in his city.

 

A rage began to bubble up in her chest, and as he came closer to her, asking her a question she could barely understand, she screamed and swung at him. Her arms were inhibited by the large amounts of cables and tubing, but she struggled nonetheless, and the only thing stopping the Peacekeepers from taking her down was Gamma’s hand, peacefully held up.

 

“It’s all right,” he murmured, in that rumbly tone of his he always got with his daughter. “It’s all right.” He took her into his arms and allowed her to beat his back as hard as she could while he embraced her, giving her as much comfort as his body could while allowing her to vent.

 

“THIS IS _YOUR FAULT_ THIS IS _YOUR_ CITY _YOU LET THAT CREATURE STAY HERE! MY BOY IS_ **_DEAD_ ** _BECAUSE OF YOU!_ ”

 

She was nigh on howling, completely gone into hysterics, and he just let her tire herself out with her fists, launch as many accusations as she was going to do.

 

About twenty minutes later, she was a sobbing mess in his arms, on her knees against him, and he was sitting on the side of her hospital bed, just gently rocking her and making soothing sounds.

 

A sound barrier had been long cast on the room, the charms set for the comfort of the other patients.

 

“It’s my _fault_ ,” she sobbed into his shoulder, face a grimace that everyone wore while crying their hardest. “I looked away from him… I left him outside…”

 

“You had no reason to suspect anything amiss would occur. This planet is very safe.”

 

“Why did this happen?”

 

“I’m not certain,” he responded. “But I shall find out. Can you tell me anything that you remember?”

 

“Pain… I felt like something was _wrong_ … I know it sounds silly, but I could feel it. I could feel his death. I knew he died the instant he died….”

 

She was right. That did sound ludicrous, except for the fact that there were charms that could be used to ensure that was so.

 

But why would the creature use one?

 

He stroked her forehead, diving into her mind. Amongst the jumble were the facts of what had happened, yes, but they had already been analyzed on site.

 

 _He stood next to her on the sidewalk, as, in her memories, they walked toward the store, bantering about dinner._  
__  
__  
_“I don’t want a Chinese, I fancy a Raxacoricofallipatorian!”_ __  
  
  
“Oh, all right. But only because I love what they do with curry.”  
 

_It rewound even further, to his first day of school. Being overwhelmed with emotion, standing and applauding as his name was called to introduce him to his peers. He was wearing the same play apron as the rest of the children, and stood proud at the podium. Going back even further was to the first time he’d tried to play the drums with her, at age 4. Archie certainly moved to his own rhythm, just like his mother had. When they’d gone to church together, teaching him how to pray, reading him the lessons of the day from the Founder Approved Children’s Manual on Being a Good Citizen._

 

 _“... and so the little girl pointed at a great many pieces of candy, and the kind woman bought them for her so that she wouldn’t look like she’d gone without in front of her friends, but the little girl didn’t even thank her, or gift her with even a smile of gratitude. So the kind woman said, later on, that she would_ **_never_ ** _do it again. What was the lesson, here?”_

 

_“We must always be gracious, and thankful!”_

 

_“Exactly! You must always follow your Rules of Etiquette.”_

 

_Her son’s first book he’d read, his first time he’d gone potty in the toilet, dancing with her, his first steps._

 

_He walked through every living room, sat through every film and television show, was present for every bit of schoolwork. Every family meal, every practice session. He was there when the boy was dancing with the other band members, when James Stone, the guitarist, played Happy Birthday for Archie. He was there while Martha Jones stood as the boy’s godmother for his baptism and blessing from Rassilon. C’rizz was present for Archie’s first day of school, as he and Renai were friends. He watched as Archie breastfed for the first time in the hospital, and listened as Renai was praised by Martha, who was there as her best friend. He watched as Archie met his mother’s eyes for the first time, was held, and that skin to skin bond occurred. He watched the boy’s birth, the first inhale of oxygen, the first cry that made all of Renai’s pregnancy and labor pains worth it._

 

_He walked with them down the hallway to the hospital, he was present at her baby shower. He wrote her first song about him with her, went maternity shopping with Martha. He was present at the appointment to check every bit of the fetus’ biological workup, to see a 3-D image of his face and find out his sex -- the one she was furious with her husband for, due to his lack of attendance. He was there when she found out, afterwards, that he was dead. He saw her life shatter, and become rebuilt by the Peacekeepers. He was there to see her find out about her pregnancy, and was a firsthand witness to the coupling that created Archie. Happy Honeymoon, indeed._

 

_He witnessed their marriage, the bridal shower, the dress fitting. Her hen night, the proposal, a wonderful courtship. All the way to the moment that she met him, bumping into him accidentally at a café._

 

_The moment before she decided to go and have a coffee, everything froze. Her husband was stripped from every single memory, and so with it, went her son. Everything in her life changed, morphed, and became all about how she was an artist who genuinely loved her craft. She wasn’t feeling the drumming anymore, but she really did need a break from her art anyhow, for some reason._

 

_Maybe she should work for her mother’s yoga studio._

 

_Wouldn’t that be a nice change of pace?_

 

She opened her eyes, seeing that she was standing in the hospital, for some reason. The nurse was pinging some results to her phone.  
  
  
“Thank you for coming to your yearly physical early. We appreciate your cooperation,” Bethany Pond, Amelia’s aunt, said with a huge smile. Her red hair went so well with her wine colored scrubs really well. “Have a Joy-Joy day!”

 

Renai grinned in return, glancing over the results. All healthy! What a relief! She had been _freaking_ out!

 

“Thank you!”

 

Gamma watched from the hallway, Renai’s pain still bouncing around the back of his head. It gave him a stronger intent to help Theta come back to himself. He couldn’t lose his child.

 

He received a ping to his phone, the first from Arkytior’s teacher about her missing her homework. That was definitely out of character for her, but this had been a strained week for her. She could be easily forgiven anything right now, so long as she was all right.

 

The next ping was from Braxiatel. She had not come home yet.

 

His stomach clenched. Not today. Anything but today.  
  
  
“Sire?” Peacekeeper Tau called to him, making him turn his head. “Peacekeepers have taken your son into custody in the Warehouse District for protection. There was social discord that he was responsive to. He is being taken here, for medical reasons.”

 

His hearts seized.

 

“My daughter?”

 

“We do not have record of her in custody, sire.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italiano/Gallifreyan:  
> 'Va boh' - "It's fine"*  
> 'Va bene?' - "Are things okay?"*  
> 'Famiglia' - "Family"  
> 'Basta' - "Stop"  
> 'Non ne posso più' - "I can't take it anymore!"  
> Biancaneve - Snow White  
> Rosarossa - Rose Red
> 
> * - Kind of gisted translation. Could be used in multiple ways.
> 
> Closed is fom WhoInWhoville, and if you haven't read her, then you simply must. KTR is KTRose, and again, you must read her as well. KK9 is Kelkat9, and just. They inspire me to be a better author every day. <3


	8. Coming Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the pub -- and surprising findings by the Peacekeepers when they look upon the evidence. Koschei makes his first move, and Donna spills tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of your patience. I am finally in a place in my life where I can write again. Thank you also to my beta, Gingergallifreyan. She has been so kind and amazing. All of you are just brilliant, and I hope you stick with me as I write more about our favorite idiot.
> 
> The usual trigger warnings are in place, please be careful.

 

 

_Dearest Brother,_

 

_If I may start this correspondence by inquiring of your health?_

 

_Father and I do so wish for your well-being, and I know the halls of the Manor are not the same without your scientific tinkering (although be it said, that Sarah Jane misses not her kitchen supplies so aptly and continuously set to ruin via your curious nature). She would like it noted that she is extremely concerned toward your eating habits, as she has noticed in the photos you have pinged us upon request that you have lost body mass. Are you with parasite? Or have you decided to skip meals in the hopes of studying further, perhaps tinkering where you shouldn’t ought? You know that a Time Lord is nothing without strength of mind and strength of body, but, dearest Brother, you must never sacrifice one for the other. You must flex both muscles, and feed thyself well, for it was Hippocrates who said, “May food be thy medicine, and thy medicine, food.”_

 

_If you are not dining properly, you will find that the rest of you may indeed suffer. Need I remind you your need for the blood packs that you are so bountifully given? You are not within a food desert, dearest brother, and these are not the times when one must Borrow from another creature by force. By living in a land of plenty, we are indeed beyond our more primal instincts. If you should choose not to feed, what sort of an Alpha are you being to your own Family? What sort of Time Lord are you holding for your future soulmate? You would come to them primal, bloodthirsty, starved? The violence you would dole out in desperation would be truly abominable -- what kind of man loves like this?_

 

_You have others who hold a lot of stake in you. Their futures are highly dependent upon you and yours, and thus you must always keep them in mind, even and especially when it comes to self care. You surely must realize that if you do not love, nourish, and care for yourself, you will be less physically, emotionally, and mentally able to perform other tasks. When there is a pressure change in a zeppelin, one must see to one’s own oxygen mask prior to seeing to caring for a child. This is a similar situation._   
_  
_ I am exceptionally well, myself. I have just seen a physician from the Yanas, and after a complete physical, it has been seen that I show no signs of Mother’s madness, nor any madness throughout (although mightn’t you disagree with that, hmm?) I have completed a few menial tasks that I know from which you gain no enjoyment, such as ensuring that all of the gutters have been cleaned by a proper company, all of the antiques have been cleansed and refurbished as necessary for the year, and I have seen to the sales of Mother’s mirrors. There was only one that I could not bear to see to the sales of, which was the Venetian gold one that Father gave her as their wedding gift, although her dowry was more than sufficient -- as you should well remember.

 

_I was meeting with Jo Grant & Associates earlier this week, and they have much to tell us. _ _They are middlemen between companies that want to issue new securities and more to the buying public. When the Yanas wanted to issue, say, new bonds to get funds to retire an older bond or to pay for an acquisition or new project, Jo Grant hired an investment bank for them, and saw to all of their financial acquisitions. The investment bank then determined the value and riskiness of the business in order to price, underwrite, and then sell the new bonds. This is something I could hardly bear to listen to in the meeting, as Jo Grant insisted that she would be able to manage our funding better than we. She is but a human being, albeit a cocky one. I wouldn’t trust her with a single credit of ours. I feel that Lord Yana will be most displeased when he finds that his nephew has shucked off such responsibility._

 

_This is something that you must take into mind, my precious Brother, for this newfound laziness of his shall not be tolerated, and while I know that your hearts and soul are not necessarily aligned with such a position as Head of Family, you must never pass any responsibility to a human, for they are not Family and are thus ill-equipped to mite perfection. To them, the Universe is magic from a waving wand, and not the exactness of number. Their minds simply cannot calculate, as ours do. I must implore you, that should you decide to need any form of aid, to make use thusly of myself or any member of the Lungbarrow Clan, for we are eagerly at your service once you take up Father’s position._

 

_The finances are all in satisfactory order, and mightn’t I mention the fact that we have begun to invest in Pear Electronics. Their versions of the tablets and phones have begun looking more toward the future. The amount of technological advances that have been possible through our funding have been incredible, and it is creating more lightweight devices with far greater memory and multitasking capabilities. The Pear 1.0 is set to come out in two months, and you shall receive one two weeks early for your birthday, as requested._

 

_Father has taken to Mother and his anniversary date with all of the grace and elegance that one could hope for, and to be most fair, the lengths he went to in an attempt of maintaining a most casual disposition were not lost on all of us. While these halls shall never be the same without the sounds of Mother’s tinkering in her gallery, or of her stroking her most beloved ivories, or the sound of her paintbrush as it glides across her canvas._

 

_We have received the letters of your grade point average. Theta, we are not best pleased with your lack of improvement. You were unable to pass your driving tests, yet again. How can this be? It is a human-made conveyance, it has been created with multiple failsafes so as even a toddler would be able to manage. You are a Time Lord, you must remove your head from the clouds, and do cease with such temper! We were informed that you took the Driving Manual, and cast it into the fireplace as kindling. Theta, I must impress upon you that we are to be known for an elegant, gregarious nature. Not one of fire and rage. I understand that you are the first Alpha born to the Family for the past 500 years, but that is no reason to result to primal, mediaeval natures which are honestly so beneath you. You must remember that while you are attending the Academy, you act not only as a Time Lord youth, eager for knowledge -- you are also in attendance as a diplomat for our Clan. Your every action there is a statement to the Lungbarrow Clan, your every move. You must ensure that you do not create further work for Father and myself._

 

_Should you do it for no other, do it for your own august person, shall you not? You are so filled with potential!_

 

_Father has come many a day to feeling much lighter, at least as would appear, than he had so normally. His countenance is much improved, and I feel I must impress upon you the reason for such a change. As Mother had told us many times of our younger sister, thus has she been found. You were quite vehement on the phone that you shall never like her, enjoy her company, or hold her to be your sister. This is acceptable, and Father and I have agreed to these terms, but you shall be respectful to her. We have impressed the knowledge upon her that you are not to be her brother, for you are to one day lead our Family, and thus you shall someday be a mentor to all of us. She hopes one day to meet you, and to see your leadership in action._

 

_Brother, we are singing your many praises to her whenever she asks of you, or you are brought up in conversation. We tell her that, while she is not your relative, that you are a fine Family leader who maintains exceptional academics, and that the future of the Family is dependent upon similar action on her part. I feel that she so greatly wishes to fit in with this family, with her home, and she would like your approval, which I know you have insisted you shall never give. I must request that you at least feign to, when you meet her. Just a small kindness on behalf of my loving sister is worth so much more than diamonds or rubies, for she has seen so little in her young life._

 

_She was found at night, nearly struck by our car as Chauncey drove Father and the Brigadier from Mother’s tomb. A young, wiry-limbed and terrified thing, she was covered in marks of tortures we could not imagine. She could not speak (the poor dear still hasn’t uttered a peep) and was too fatigued to offer a fight to us as we took her for some medical care. Grace was none too kind, but the Yana family still holds a high opinion of her, regardless of her wicked tongue. It did not take much of a financial transaction to turn the girl over to us. Her psychologist is of the mind that what she had suffered is a thing that she has a memory of, deep within her, something that could not be removed. We both feel that although her memories were swiped, they were done so clumsily -- as I was in her mind to verify her story, I can attest to this knowledge -- and thus, there is a chance that she may fully remember the monsters who have done this to her someday._

 

_Until now, she dreams of fire, and terror, with a face she cannot see…_

 

* * *

 

 

Gamma sat on a far less than comfortable chair, in a small square room -- one of multiple waiting rooms. Why was this chair so uncomfortable?! This was ridiculous. He should demand Delta fund for better seating. If one must weather the storm of having one’s loved ones in another room where they were sick or injured, one deserved… gluteus maximus comfortis.

 

It was a word now, he was Lord Gamma.

 

The ticking of the clock on the wall was tap dancing on his nervous system, slowly grating each moment his son was in that room, receiving surgery. He hadn’t even seen him, not really, when he’d been brought in. The memory of his face that looked nigh on bashed in, eye swollen shut and already a deep blackish purple, reaching a bloody, broken hand for his father was one that would stay with him for all of the days of his life. He’d already lost his wife, and her screams were etched into his soul. He couldn’t lose Theta, he _wouldn’t_ lose Theta. He’d promised his wife that he would take care of all three of their children.

 

Braxiatel was forced to return to their company temporarily, as a client needed information speedily, and his darling daughter-in-law Donna, had taken to watching over him and hovering in a manner close to what Sarah Jane would do, with fewer insults. Honestly, it was a familiarity he’d needed during that time, as he struggled to get his son’s image from his mind. If that had to be the last of his child, he didn’t want that image to be his memory.

 

The warmth of the coffee mug placed in his hands seeped the cold away, and he glanced up at Donna in gratitude -- only it wasn’t Donna.

 

It was his wife. He nearly swallowed his own tongue.

 

She didn’t look a day older than the last time he’d seen her, but she wasn’t mad -- her skin was clear, her eyes were smiling, and her vortex manipulator was around her wrist. She sat down beside him, giving him that soft look that he knew so well. He instantly turned away, swallowing painfully, and attempted to maintain his posture.

 

“You should not be here, Arkytior.”

 

“And why not, my love? Is it not what I’ve always done? Even if I should return soon, it is not as though I shall give myself a fright, is it?”

 

His hearts wrenched in pain, and he tried to steer the conversation elsewhere. “It is not a good time.”

 

“My love…. Omega, in all of his infinite wisdom, he has planned all of this! I am meant to be here, from the moment I click ‘randomizer’. Everything is connected. Surely, you have not forgotten that.”

 

He shook his head, slowly, keeping his eyes closed. “This has nothing to do with…” but he was too weak to finish.

 

“Nothing is also connected.”

 

He remained silent, and tried not to look at her.

 

“Why are we in the hospital, Gamma? Is there a check-up?”

 

_He couldn’t do this…_

 

“Gamma?”

 

“Our….. our son…. he was in a battle…” May as well lighten that load as much as he could, not tell her that it had been a bar fight. “He is gravely wounded.”

 

Her gasp was seen, but not felt. He was blocking her connection with him as hard as he could. It would kill him to feel and then lose again.

 

Arkytior…. he didn’t need to see her to know that her hand to her mouth was trembling, and her tears were beginning. Oh, she had such a big heart.

 

“Which….?”

 

“Theta Sigma. I deeply apologize, I have failed you. I have failed to protect our son. I swore to you that I would allow nothing to happen to him…”

 

“Oh, don’t be silly….” she breathed through her tears. “If you permit nothing to happen to him, then _nothing_ ever shall. This was meant to be. No matter what it is that has occurred with our son, he is precisely where he ought to be. He shall be alright, Gamma. I feel it. In my belly, I do.”

 

He smiled, he couldn’t help himself. Oh, to have her with him. He automatically reached to take her hand, forgetting that touch removed his ability to block her out. His mind exploded, a shower of lights brighter than the Medusa Cascade. Her mind rushed over his like the breaking of a dam, the rocks were all covered, and there wasn’t a hint of space that she didn’t occupy, if he didn’t. He couldn’t breathe, he hadn’t been so overwhelmed by her since they first mated.

 

_‘Gamma.’_

 

The pain and pleasure had mixed for him, and he looked down at his hands, which were scrunching his pocket handkerchief. They were safer to look at, but this action in and of itself was foolish because he could no longer hide from her.

 

_‘Gamma, where am I?’_

 

He sighed a bit. “Right here.”

 

_‘Gamma.’_ Mild frustration had always become her.

 

‘ _Right next to me.’_

 

_‘And where else am I?’_

 

He couldn’t stop the image of her tomb from popping into his mind, and she instantly understood.

 

_‘When?’_

 

_‘You know I cannot divulge this information.’_

 

_‘You are correct. I apologize.’_

 

_‘It should be I who apologizes, for failing you.’_

 

_‘Love of my life, how could you ever fail me? You were by my side until the end. I shall have to forget this, until the right moment...but I’ll know in my soul that you are safety, warmth, and a love I never truly felt I deserved. My love, you could have gone with me, but chose to stay for our children.’_

 

_‘Yet one is missing, and the other is in surgery…’_ he thought, bitterly.

 

_‘Braxiatel is missing?’_ her panic seized his throat the same as it did hers.

 

_‘Our daughter.’_

 

_‘We have a girl?!’_ The excitement in her veins pulsed through his, and he closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling.

 

_‘Adopted. But she is every bit ours.’_

 

He sent her images of Arkytior, the way she looked as a little girl, running and playing with the Time Tots they had over for playdates, and one from a few days ago of her signing a book to him.

 

_‘Why does she not laugh, as other children…?’_

 

_‘She does, in her way.’_ He sent one of Arkytior’s smiles to his wife, and the overly expressive faces. Her tongue-touched smile, her goofy nature, pointing and silently laughing at her brother. The way she expressed dislike of things with the most adorable faces of disgust. _‘She is mute. Sometimes, she will make noise. She can speak, if she tries very hard. It causes her pain to do so, but we have searched many a doctor to see if something can be done… We cannot figure out why.’_

 

_‘She is… silent?’_

 

_‘Oh, far from.’_ Images of her clumsiness, childhood awkwardness, listening to loud music and air guitaring, and playing the violin with Braxiatel came to mind, followed by thudding down the stairs in a rush with Matches, happy flailing and clapping with Amelia over some celebrity on television, just daily noises that made up her living in the home. Gamma was in the living room in that memory, reading the news on his tablet with an eyebrow raised in amusement while the girls were signing to each other how excited they were to see Gemini Croquettes’ live 11-D concert.

 

_‘She may be mute, but she is exceptionally expressive.’_

 

His wife laughed, closing her eyes and enjoying sensations she knew she would never experience. Secondhand would have to be just as good.

 

_‘Ah. The Peacekeepers.’_

 

She was startled out of relishing the experience and moved to get up with him, but he sent a sharp negative to her.

 

She wasn’t happy, but she allowed him to do as he needed to do.

 

“What occurred?” he asked of the men, drawing himself into a pose of careful nonchalance.

 

“Attack on a pub in the Warehouse District. Looks like Young Lord Lungbarrow was there, along with the Young Lady. The Young Lady was attacked first, by a male creature, non-human, who seemed to be using something invisible to attack the Time Lords in the vicinity. The Young Lord tried to protect her.”

 

Official enough sounding statement, but he had a feeling there was more to it than that.

 

“Where is my daughter?” his tone was dangerous, he needed to know. Now.

 

“Taken in by Lord Delta’s eldest, sire. She is in his custody, being checked over. Awaiting you to fetch her, of course. He followed Time Lord Safety Protocol 4.7.2.0-Diamond.”

 

Maintaining the safety of a Time Lord through taking over custody and holding them in the protection of your household until one of their clan can claim them. Thank the Gods for Koschei, even though something about the situation felt a bit opportunistic to Gamma.

 

Nonsense. It was because it was his daughter. He had never been given reason to mistrust Koschei. Delta had never done him wrong, why would his only son be someone who would?

 

“And the man who attacked my son?”

 

“Dead, sir.”

 

Gamma nodded a bit, trying to process the information.

 

“We’re preparing to watch the surveillance feed.”

 

Gamma’s posture and face went cold. “I demand to see it first.”

 

His wife piped up in his mind. _‘Who was this mongrel who attacked our children?’_

 

“Do we have the identity of the assailant?” he avoided using her colorful language, but he felt the sentiment in his bones.

 

“No records, sire. We’re scanning his DNA now for any relative matches on New Earth, and for any relative matches in the Intergalactic Union. We shall find who he was, and who he was working for.”

 

“As soon as you find anyone related to the creature, you bring them in. I demand retribution.”

 

“Sire, he appeared to know your daughter, according to multiple accounts.”

 

His blood froze in his veins. “I do beg pardon?” every word was spoken slowly, a growl hinted in them.

 

“Yes sire. He told her that he loved her.”

 

He would have to increase security a thousandfold. He couldn’t afford anything to happen to her.

 

* * *

 

  
Watching the footage of what went on inside of that pub was gut-wrenching for Gamma, and his long dead wife watched by his side, trying to play off a bit of nonchalance.

 

She always believed that what was meant to be would be.

 

They could see Theta hustling people at the pool table, which made Gamma rub his temples.

 

That boy….

 

_Arkytior was enjoying Koschei’s company, for which Gamma was a bit relieved. It looked perfectly innocent, just helping with her homework._

 

Good.

 

His wife poked him in the ribs, and kept watching.

 

_His daughter headed to the bar, and his son was being admonished by his cousin for his behavior. Also good._

 

It was the man by the bar that had Gamma’s blood boiling.

 

_He was wearing khaki breeches, brown boots, and a green tunic shirt. The design flowed in and out of itself like the weave of a ward, different shades of greens and browns making the top appear more olive than it actually was. There was a large gemstone that looked like it might be sewn into it, attached to his tunic above his heart. Gamma noticed it as it caught the light._   
  
  
A hand grabbed her wrist with a tight grip, and she jolted up, looking at this man.   
  
  
Gamma was about to spit nails, that grip looked bruising.   
  
  
His face was covered in scars, like a latticework of lighter shades of pink and white. There were bumps on his face, along the hairline, that looked almost like… mushrooms. There were green bits all along his sandy hair, as though it was moss and fungus weaving into the strands from his scalp. His daughter looked like she was trying very hard to remain calm and non-judgemental, which made him mildly proud, but it was overrun with his concern. Something about this man did not look right, and it wasn’t his hygiene. 

_  
She struggled against the man’s grip, clearly not trying to make a scene but she must have felt so helpless, unable to make enough sound to be heard over the music, to catch attention to being manhandled. _

 

She was vulnerable, and in a world where such things didn’t happen… Gamma felt guilt for not having done… anything… anything to help her.  
__  
  
She couldn’t breathe, she was panicking.

 

He felt tears prick in his eyes, but inhaled deeply to pull them back, continuing to watch.  
  
_  
“You’re supposed to be dead!” the man snarled. “Dead, you’re dead!”_ _  
_  
  
What the hell did he mean by that?!  
  
_  
That got some attention. The bartender finally took notice of the situation, and moved to the panic button, to call Peacekeepers. He couldn’t afford a dead member of the Family on his property._  
_  
__  
“DEAD! YOU’RE DEAD! YOU’RE DEAD, DEAD, DEAD!” He began shaking her, screaming in her face. The pungent scent of him made her gag, tears streaming down her face as she tried to fight him. “SHE KILLED YOU, YOU’RE DEAD!”_ __  
  
  
She appeared to turn away, as though she heard a sound to her right. Nobody was speaking to her, but she was looking away anyhow.    
  
  
That caught Gamma’s attention, but he kept his mouth shut, filing it away to rewatch as soon as the video was finished.

 

_“THE HEART!” he howled, ignoring the sounds of people ordering him to release her. “SHE ATE THE HEART! THE HEART, YOUR HEART, SHE KILLED YOU!”_ _  
_  
_  
_ He watched his daughter's tears as she struggled.  
_  
__  
“DEMON! GHOUL! GHOST! YOU’RE DEAD!” His rage seemed to grow, and the entire pub was silent, inclusive of the music._  
__  
  
“She is of the Famiglia Lungbarrow! Release her immediately! She is never to be touched! You will be arrested for harm to the Family! Release her, or else!” shouted the bouncer.

 

Gamma paused the video, looking to one of the Peacekeepers.

 

“Do we know what he meant by this?”

 

“Indeed not, Sire. We assume they are the ramblings of a being that has… lost touch with reality.”

 

Gamma wanted to believe that, he wanted to believe that this man was simply ill, and had chosen his daughter as the unfortunate one, the closest of the lot. But the man had apparently called her by name. This couldn’t be ignored, so he took nothing at face value. His wife’s hand squeezed his shoulder, and he knew she was leaving. This was too much future knowledge, and where she would go… he didn’t pretend to know.

 

_He was shaking her until her head rattled, and her entire world jerked over and over again until it suddenly stopped, and she fell to the ground on her knees. Her stomach instantly turned over, and she ended up vomiting her drink back up painfully, the acid along her sinuses burning in the worst way. She struggled for air against the pain, taking a shaky, hard fought inhale, before feeling arms pulling her away from her own sick and into comfort. A glance up with watery eyes showed Koschei’s sister Lucille holding her, and a loud slam showed that Theta Sigma had tackled the man, severely damaging the room._   
  
  
He was snarling, eyes nearly glowing, fangs dropped and face showing pure fury.   
  
  
The man made the mistake of running toward Arkytior again, but Theta was ready, leaping on him like a leopard on a gazelle, and sending him back to the ground.

 

Gamma felt his fangs drop, squeezing his hand into a fist while he watched his son fighting a battle he wished he could have been there for. It took every ounce of logic in him, telling him the fight was over, telling him he couldn’t change it… it took everything to stop himself.

 

He was not one to lose control like that, but he also was not one who was often witness to violence, especially against his own children.

 

He pushed the button to stop the film after a few minutes, needing to compose himself.

 

“Sire?”

 

“A moment.”  
  
  
“Of course, Your Grace.”

 

After a few moments to regain his composure, selfishly taking in his wife’s comfort while she was about -- _why was she still about?_ \-- and he was ready to move forward.

 

_“KILL!” the Huntsman spat, angrily, blood coming from his torn lips as a tooth came out with his words. “DESTROY HIM!”_

 

“Who is he talking to?” Gamma wondered aloud, and the Peacekeeper nearest him shook his head, as befuddled as he.

 

“This is where it gets… odd…” murmured Peacekeeper Kappa.

 

“How so?”

 

“We cannot see what is attacking them.”

 

Gamma blinked, and watched as the film rolled again, seeing that indeed, Time Lords were being attacked, by… nothing.  
  
  
“Stop it again. I heard something.” Gamma tilted his head a bit, and the same ten seconds were played by the Peacekeeper.

 

“I… still hear something…”  
  
  
“Sire?”

 

“Can you refine the sound? Take out some of the background noise.”  
  
  
“Of course. A moment, Sire.”  
  
  
Peacekeeper Mu began using a program, going through the ten seconds, before replaying. They all shook their head and agreed there was still too much noise, and so the sounds of shouting were removed next, which took a few minutes.

 

It still wasn’t clear, and so Peacekeeper Mu removed the sound of the jukebox, and they replayed it yet again.  
  
  
The sounds of glass shattering were too loud, still but it was becoming much clearer.  
  
  
Mu went through and removed the glass and the wood.  
  
  
Play.  
  
  
The sound was silent for a few moments, before the sound of the snarls of a very large animal was closest to the camera, and the clicks of another animal’s claws.

  
“By the Founders, what _is_ that?!” Peacekeeper Mu was startled.   
  
  
“It… must be an animal….” Gamma murmured, and the others in the room nodded.   
  
  
“Shall we see if we may find further noise to analyze, Sire?”   
  
  
“Yes…. remove some of the background noise here, as well.”   
  
  
As they scanned the footage from the previous ten seconds, they’d heard a loud bark.   
  
  
“Is it… dogs, think you, Sire?”   
  
  
“So it would seem, however… I know not of any dogs that may turn invisible. I know of no creature who may present themselves as a dog unseen. You, Mu?”   
  
  
“Indeed it is outside of my ken, Sire. Shall I play more, and further analyze later? We will be certain to ping you the altered version.”   


Gamma nodded, then brought his hand near his mouth, curled up into an upwards fist, resting his index finger against his lips while he followed along, until he saw Theta whip around like a shot, and head toward Arkytior. He was confused until he saw her blood.  
  
_  
No…_

 

Theta was gunning straight for her.

 

* * *

 

 

_Theta Sigma was so close to his prize._

 

_He could feel her pulse in his mind, on his tongue, the bomp-bomp-bomp of a speeding heartbeat. She was his prey, and he was going to have her every which way. He knew of pleasure, and he would give and take -- show her entire worlds she’d never dreamt of. He’d studied anything he hadn’t experienced firsthand -- spent hours, days, weeks on kama sutras, intercourse manuals, pleasure novels. He’d learned massage techniques, oral stimulations, and even researched kinks and fetishes, in case his mate might be into certain things -- he wanted to be prepared. He’d been imagining it, even though he’d never known that she’d been… human…._

 

_She was in tears, pulling away from him… she was afraid of him. He didn’t want her afraid of him, he wanted her to come to him, wanting him…. How could she not see that he would never harm her? Never in any way she didn’t enjoy, anyhow. She was going to burn hotter than she’d ever thought possible, he would show her ecstasy she’d never dreamed, and then she would belong to him. He just needed her bloo--_

 

_He was blocked from his mate by Koschei standing in front of her, protecting her with his body. He tried to shove his favorite cousin out of the way, and yet, the man was rooted to the ground like a solid oak, his eyes filled with the carefully dampened fire and rage that Theta knew consumed his soul. He stood there, keeping her safe, while Arkytior glared at him, through tears. She was having the worst day of her entire life, and this creature in front of her was to blame! She wasn’t making a sign of anything positive, he was certain._

 

_“Get out of my way, Koschei.”_   
  
“  
I will not.”   
  
  
_“The woman is_ **_mine_ ** _!” he snarled, his eyes going bloodshot with his rage._   


_“She_ **_belongs_ ** _to herself.” Koschei sniffed, remaining where he was. “I am immovable upon this subject,_ **_darling_ ** _cousin.”_

 

_“I will_ **_destroy_ ** _you!” Theta snarled. “She’s_ **_my_ ** _mate,_ **_mine_ ** _! YOU CANNOT HAVE HE--” He was rudely cut off by the Corsair, better known as his cousin Jack, taking him down from behind. His primal urges were becoming way too much, and he fought his cousin violently, not even truly seeing him. He fought with a rage that had been caged since his mother’s first take with her illness, and lucky for the Corsair he was just as strong, able to move when necessary, and hit back hard enough to kill a human. The sounds added to the violent chaos in the room, Arkytior could hardly hear herself think._

_  
_ _Arkytior backed away from them both, her ears ringing with all of the clamor, as the fight between Time Lords and their allies, and dogs they could not see grew more intense. There were glasses shattering from the force of massive bodies hitting them, sending showers of diamond dust all around. The shock of it sent her to her hands and knees, trying to move under bodies to get out, her mind on Survival Mode. Pinpricks from where shards found skin dotted many an arm, but most present were too high on their adrenaline to notice._

 

_She coughed as dust from splitting marble puffed into her face, ducking to avoid food flying, tables crushed to bits as these creatures of such immense power and skill met adversaries they were on an even keel with -- although, could they see them, these dogs would have been destroyed._

 

_One Time Lord managed to grab hold of an invisible dog and threw it across the room, only seen through the dust and food it voided. It hit the jukebox with a sickening thwuck, which made it click on, announcing ‘Keep-A-Knockin, by Peggy Suave’ before it burst with music that would have made the situation almost comical if she wasn’t crawling on the ground, struggling to get away from the danger._

 

_She had never seen such behavior in real life._

 

_The shouts of anger brought her back to a place she had only visited in her dreams, and it felt like she was hearing their voices from underwater, each step she crawled felt like she had lead in her legs and couldn’t lift them. Her heart was going a million miles a minute, and she knew that she was going to die, no matter what the boys were arguing about._

 

_She could hear someone call out to her, Miss, Miss, Milady please! but it was quickly followed by a louder shout that sounded even more garbled._

 

_That man’s eyes were all she could see, and where she was certain there was once love there, it was replaced by something else, like he was some automaton._

 

_A cry from behind her was hardly heard, but the blood curdling scream in her ear made her sway a bit, the dizziness making her head feel like it was filled with cotton batting._

 

_She blinked her eyes at the very same Huntsman, now standing impossibly in front of her, his dogs having swarmed the entire pub so that everyone was so busy concentrating on fighting them, that he was free to go about as he liked._

 

_His hands went around her neck, lifting her up into the air like she weighed nothing. She struggled against him, a bit of spittle coming from her mouth as she gasped for air. He was shouting at her, the strangest accusations that she’d ever heard._

 

_“--should never have come back here! You’re wagging yourself in Her face! She ate the heart! SHE ATE YOUR HEART! YOU… ONE…. LESS! SHE... KILLED US... ALL! I SAVED YOU... FOR NOTHING, SHE’LL FIND YOU--!”_

 

_There was a tingling in her fingertips and toes, she couldn’t quite feel them properly. Her vision was pinholed, and the sounds of other people’s voices, even his, drifted like water down a sluice. She was struggling with her hands, clawing at his, but he didn’t seem to feel it, and her grip was weakening with every passing moment. Her heart hurt, the unnaturally rapid rhythm causing a seizing in her chest, the muscles tightening as her body gave her the last bit of energy it had to try to fight back. She reached up to grab his chest, trying to scratch him, and her fingers ghosted across something hard, faceted, warm to the touch._

  
_"I... LOVE... YOU--! I HAVE TO....PROTECT...YOU!"_  


_Her fingers tightened around the jewel as he finally got an attack he responded to -- a Peacekeeper’s taser wand striking across his shoulders and making his hands go slack._

 

_Arkytior was ripped away from him by Lucille, and her tight grip on the one thing she’d convinced herself meant life caused a strange thing to happen. The sound of the jewel leaving his body was a disgusting suction, and a gelatinous substance came from the wound. Arkytior collapsed to the ground and Lucille shouted for a medic, keeping her friend on the ground, terrified to move her._

 

_The large red jewel was connected to a pointed blade that had been lodged into his heart, and his eyes changed into a shade of cognac brown, with soft, dying flecks of gold in them._

 

_He stared at Arkytior as though he’d never seen her before, and then blinked, falling to the floor just as she had a few moment’s prior. He reached up to her, his hand touching hers, and causing a spark of gold energy to run along her skin._

 

_His last words were a choked out, “Rose Red…?” before his body finally gave out. He’d sounded so lost, so horridly sad._

 

_A final tear streaked its way down his face._

 

_She stared into his dead eyes, and a million dreams ran through her mind, the way he’d looked at her while She was harming her and the Other… she went unconscious, finally permitting the black to take her vision._

 

_Lucille kept shouting for a medic, and holding Arkytior close to her chest, her brother making it across the room, looking severely worse for the wear as he’d been trying to see to the wounds of others and occasionally got caught in the crossfire._

 

_Peacekeepers flooded the area, cordoning off sections, adjusting memories, sending Time Lords to be seen in the hospital._

 

_Order was quickly being restored._

 

_Koschei lifted Arkytior princess-style after ensuring that she could be transported, and nodded to his sister before taking his prize out to his car and loading her in the passenger’s seat. Her seatbelt snicked on as he climbed in, and clicked the autodrive button to take them to the A & E. _

 

_Glancing over at her, he stroked her hair from her face and smiled wickedly. An unclaimed Time Lord’s Soulmate… what a terrible thing to misplace. With all of her mistrust in Theta Sigma’s goodness, if he romanced her just right, he might walk away with a soulmate of his very own._

 

_Sod his cousin. He wanted a wife._

 

_Somewhere, far away, She was screaming in agony, feeling her Huntsman’s death acutely. Good help was so hard to find these days._

 

* * *

 

A sudden light made her jerk up, the darkness and detachment gone. Her heart was beating like a stampede, and olive met whiskey as she and Koschei took each other in.

 

She flushed in awareness of his proximity to her, and then glanced away to set sights on anything but his face.

 

Gorgeously polished antique bookcases of a soft mahogany, _oh to own books, one must be Family to afford them,_ _for the taxes on paper were so high_ , titles such as _Grey’s Anatomy XVII_ , _Anatomy of the Rachnoss, Extreme Illnesses of the Outer Limits, and Modern Medicine for the Post Apocalyptic Planet Dweller_ were among them.

 

He had a few instruments here and there, an ancient pair of medical scissors on display, a Newton’s cradle with clear balls, clear documents inside of only slightly opaque files. His laser pens were in a row, not a one out of place -- indeed, just like Braxiatel he was exceptionally organized. The walls and floors were made of glass, she realized; only unable to be seen through at the office owner’s room controls.   
  
  
The room would have felt entirely sterile had it not been for his desk. It was ancient, cherry wood, and had deep carvings in it of his Family’s history. The thick glass on top made it easy to write upon, but he was very clearly set to take his Father’s place with such an important piece in his office.

 

“I apologize, milady, as it was not my intent to alarm you. I was concerned that you were still concussed.”

 

She felt handstied, and scrambled to sign a ‘thank you’.

 

Looking down, she could see that she’d been changed into hospital linens, long, with holes for arm straps and off-white. There was Circular Gallifreyan on both ends that would become the top, dyed well into both sides so that no matter which way one chose to wear it, the fact that they were in the A & E, which Unit they were in, and whether they could move about unattended was clearly branded on them. It wrapped easily around bodies, and could both fit nearly every body within a large range, but they provided warmth, easy access for medical staff, and easy removal so the patient was not inconvenienced, nor the staff.

 

A glance at her feet, she could see that she was wearing the matching mauve socks, and she could feel the linen undergarments. She flushed hotly, he’d undressed and redressed her.

 

He wasn’t paying attention to her face, however, and was instead counting her pulse, and then nodding to himself. She was being silly, he was a medical professional -- it hadn’t been a sexual experience for him.

 

He chuckled softly, as she realized he’d been struggling with her twitching to hear her lungs intake air. “Do you mind if I continue my examination of you? Is it cold?” His stethoscope was not at all cold, a fact he knew.

 

She smiled widely, and nodded. He was so gentle and sweet. Family too, so her trust was instantaneous.  
  
  
He was extremely appropriate, his hands and face remaining professional without a hint of anything amiss, but she felt almost starved for positive touch, and felt her eyes closing along with the urge to hum.   
  
  
Fingers that were sure, firm, whispering across her forehead and scalp as he checked for any extra damage. His hands were soft, and he checked her cheek and chin. The pressure applied was gentle, seeking, and when she winced, he made hums of comfort that she could get lost in. _Yes_ , this was what she’d missed... she’d been dying for him to be like this with her, instead of so catty and cruel. She’d missed the man she knew. He tilted her chin up, hopefully to kiss her, and suddenly the scent hit her nose and it was all wrong.

 

Her eyes snapped open, and it was not Theta, but Koschei. She was embarrassed, but he was still looking at her neck professionally, nodding a bit to himself.

 

“Does it hurt if I apply pressure here?”  
  
  
A headshake.  
  
  
“All right, and here? ….How about here?”

 

Headshake twice.

 

“And here…?”

 

At her wince, he nodded sympathetically and reached into his bag, removing a dermal regenerator. “I’m going to heal some of the swelling, but it is important that your human body does some of the healing -- otherwise, funnily enough, it might forget it knows how. Your body needs constant practice with things like immunities and healing.”

 

_Oh…._ She’d been foolish enough to forget for a few moments that she was a human, and not equal to the man in front of her. He would always be above her, and his kindness was voluntary, not obligatory.

 

If he noticed a change in her comfort levels, he showed no signs of it. The dermal regenerator hummed softly, and her pain went with it. It felt easier to breathe now, and she gave him a shaky smile after he was done seeing to her.

 

“All of your contusions are yellowing, they should be gone completely in a few days. Would you like something to eat? I would hate to have you famished while I’m caring for you.”  
  
  
  
She tilted her head a bit, mouth pursing to the side as one eye closed in the most adorable thoughtful face he’d ever seen before.

 

_Easy now. Slow going wins the race_ , he thought to himself.

 

She nodded a bit, a slow smile spreading across her face.

 

“Because your throat is still harmed, I will suggest something easy and smooth. It looks like you’re on a Brat Diet for a few days while it heals. Now…”

 

He grabbed something out of a drawer in his desk, and smirked a bit as he knelt down in front of her, eye to eye. “I have it on excellent authority that you enjoy pudding.”

 

Her shoulders shook a bit with her smile, her way of giggling no doubt, and she blushed from her ears as she nodded a bit.

 

“I have my favorite here, and it’s my last one, going to my lucky patient. Do you happen to enjoy Pistacchio?”

 

Her eyes lit up as she took the pudding tube from him. **Thank you!** **Its my favorite!** She happily opened it and began to squeeze from the bottom, the thick dessert feeling like a balm to her sore throat. She always tried to savor these things, but she could never stop herself from eating it like she was dying of starvation. She bit both of her lips in an effort to hold in a tiny burp, but had a feeling he’d heard it anyhow.

 

Of course it was her favorite. He’d thumbed through her mind a bit while she’d been asleep, not that she knew that, although not in a necessarily invasive way…. just doing recon. Finding out everything she liked and wanted, in order to be, possess, and do precisely that.

 

She’d never be able to resist him.

 

A chime from the door to his office sent him up to his intercom, and a few moments of murmuring that she tried really hard not to eavesdrop on later, she smiled at C’rizz as he came to fetch her. She hopped off Koschei’s maroon colored couch and gave him a slight bow of gratitude.

 

**Thank you so much for your care. I am indebted.**

 

Following her manners. Papa would be proud.

 

He smiled and nodded at her. “Never a problem. Thank you for being such a good patient. Do inform Lord Gamma that I shall ping him her file update.” The latter was to C’rizz, who nodded and started to walk out with the Young Lady when Koschei leaned more casually against the doorframe, brushing her bangs from her eyes. “I wonder if I could see you again? Perhaps for a follow-up in a few days, and then, perhaps, a spot of lunch to go over your report? I don’t enjoy leaving things unfinished.”

 

Her answer was an instantaneous yes, and she smiled at him as C’rizz led her out to be met by McCrimmon, and taken to her Family. Something about the exchange bothered the bodyguard, but it was not his place to meddle or question. The Time Lord appeared jovial enough, waving his fingers in a goodbye motion before clicking the button for his door.

 

Arkytior was blinking a bit before hugging herself as she walked, even though she wasn’t cold. She shouldn’t have said yes, but she just felt… she did it without thinking. She’d already had a long day, and it was finally starting to wear her down.

 

Koschei smirked after his door sealed shut with a pressurized _whoosh_. His system was set to automatic privacy, so the clear glass of the door speckled and became frosted again. She would love him. He’d make damn sure of that. He’d already put the thought in her head.

 

* * *

 

 

Lord Gamma had made it into his son’s room with a heavy heart, wife already gone back to her own time.

 

Theta looked almost completely healed, wearing his hospital linens and sleeping peacefully. Gamma simply did what he felt any father would do, and sat next to his son’s side, holding his clammy hand before pressing a soft kiss to his palm. He hummed a bit, the scent of her was everywhere, telling him that she’d been in the room with their son before she’d left.

 

What that must have taken her, to see something she could not help with and to exit, knowing that she was unlikely to know their son as a man… as the man he was supposed to become.

 

Gamma brushed the hair from his son’s eyes and kissed the top of his head, inhaling deep. He could still smell him just like he could when he was a baby, that sweet smell that only parents seemed to appreciate. His lips quivered, and he felt the stress of the entire thing start to overtake him. His son hated him -- violently hated him, because he could not save his wife.

 

He deserved it, he supposed. He was her mate, it was his job to protect her. He had failed his children, and her as well… no matter what she’d said. She didn’t know, she hadn’t lived through her passing. She couldn’t forgive him for something she didn’t understand.

 

He pressed his son’s palm against his cheek for a moment, missing him even though he was right in front of his face, and began to sing, softly.

 

_Nu bellu juarnu l'ha vista passare,_

_chir'uacchi l'hannu fattu 'nnamurare,_

_ma nu giuvani principe un po' stari_

_cu chira duci e bella poverella._

 

He couldn’t even sing. His voice was cracking, and it was coming out more like breathy whimper than actual singing. But still, he pressed forward. His son loved song, simply loved it… and he would love more to wake up to that, than to wake up to his father panicking.

 

_Nu juarnu pù ha decisu di scappare,_

_i sinne ji ppè la putire amare,_

_ma a mamma nun lu volle accettare_

_e nu malocchio ci volle mannare._

 

Perhaps, at this point, it would be best to admit to himself that he was singing more for his own comfort than anything else. He was frightened beyond anything he’d imagined today, and the only thing he really knew how to do in those moments was to comfort his children, even though they were hardly that anymore… although Theta’s actions occasionally put that to question.

 

_E mò vi cantu du re Niliu_

_ca ppè passione e per amuri_

_alli raggi di lu suli_

_cumu la cira si squagliò…_

 

He had to stop singing, he couldn’t continue. His voice wouldn’t stop cracking with the effort, and the fact that his wife sang that song often just made it worse to feel the renewed emptiness within him.

 

“Do you remember when you were young, and you begged me for hours to buy you a new guitar like Koschei’s? Gods, but for hours you railed off about how much you needed one. Your Mamma went to the store the very next week and fetched you a piano…. oh, but you were so cross. You learned how to play it, though… you became so well at it, son. You always did that. You took every disappointment and just muscled through it.”

 

A slow tear snaked its way down his cheek.

 

“You… you always had this way of moving forward, and selfishly I assumed you could do it with your Mamma too. Then… you flipped on us, and… Just please. Please wake up. Wake up, even if you are sour, angry, and shrilling with rage. Just wake up so I can yell at you, _damnit_ …”

 

He rubbed at his eyes, pulling his glasses on and dug through his bag, taking a moment to try to breathe. Pulling out his tablet, he was preparing to read to his son. Reading would control his voice, so the boy would wake to a strong Alpha’s voice and know that all was calm.

 

A chime from the door before it opened caught his attention, and he saw the Brigadier following Delta.

 

“ _Fratello Mio_ , _ma com’è?_ ” Delta asked about how Gamma was feeling, concern lacing his softened tone.

 

“ _Tutto va boh…_ ” A lie. Nothing was fine. But a polite answer nonetheless.

 

Delta nodded, embracing his best friend tightly. He understood, and couldn’t imagine what he would feel like if his son ever went down such a dangerous path as Theta.

 

Thankfully, Koschei was so good-hearted and obedient. He would _never_ harm another soul.

 

“I have spoken with his physicians, and as you can see, he is healed of body completely. We ensured that everything was handled, although there was a cause for concern…”

 

Gamma felt his stomach clench, just that word was enough to spring panic into any parent.

 

“That being? Delta, do not sugarcoat things for me. I must know.”

 

Delta nodded, and worked his mouth. “We found a lot of dog bites on him, although there were none present.”

 

_Dogs?_ He recalled the earlier conversation with the Peacekeepers. “Yes, the Peacekeepers feel there is some malum maleficarum afoot with that.”

 

Delta nodded a bit. “I suspected as much. We also found some grime that was beginning the process of infection in his wounds. It would appear that some of the dogs were rabid.”

 

“Rabid?! We haven’t had rabies on New Earth for--”

 

“Five hundred years, yes, Brother.”

 

Gamma was boggled, then tilted his head to Delta. “Is that everything?”

 

“Nearly. We’re analyzing the rest of the dirt found, but… its not looking good, Gamma. It’s looking like something we’ve got no idea about. We’re walking into this blind, and I don’t like that.”

 

With a squeeze of Gamma’s shoulders, he left him to wait for the anaesthesia to wear off.

 

* * *

 

  
Lynda (with a ‘y’, thank you very much) was excited.

 

Her hair fluttered around her, and her brand new slate grey slacks made a swishing sound with each step she took, nigh on trembling to contain her squeals of excitement. She felt like all of New Earth was cheering her on -- even her trousers, the noise they made as her legs brushed against each other having the beat of her name.

 

Swish, swish. Lynda, Moss. Swish, swish. Lynda, Moss.

 

She’d worked so hard at New London Elementary, and had struggled her way through Chiswick Juniors -- and somehow, by the grace of the Founders, had met the requirements to attend St. Omega’s.

 

She was an Empath, and was thus something really special in the scheme of things. The world was her oyster, so to speak, in that she had nothing but a great desire to help people, ever since she was a child. She was born a ray of sunshine, hardly cried or fussed, and always seemed to know when people were feeling poorly. Being an empath explained that. As the years went on, she learned more and more how to sense their energy, and even change it. She could pull all of their hurt into herself, and send them an outpouring of love and compassion so powerful that it brought many to their knees.

 

Headmaster Chesterton had even smiled at her, and told her parents that there were great things to expect from her.

 

Lynda had been so thrilled with her acceptance, that even though she was coming to the hospital for her weekly volunteer time (she so loved being able to tend to the ill, learning how to listen for the watchcharms, holding the hands of those who were in pain), she’d even worn her new school uniform, despite it being outside of the dress code, and highly expensive. Her mum was not thrilled with the idea of her getting it dirty so quickly, but Lynda had been able to feel that her mother’s hesitancy on permitting it was overpowered by not wanting to crush her daughter’s happiness, or even damper it a bit. She loved that her little girl was so eager to learn, and after all of her hard work… well, a few stains could be washed.

 

She walked down those halls that she knew so well, New London Grace, not quite as grand as the one in New New York (well… actually, this planet had been about the fifteenth time they’d started over as a race, her studies told her, so it was technically New New New New New New New New New New New New New New New New York, but that didn’t quite have the same ring to it) but it was still a sight to see. The focus of the architect, hired by Lord Delta of House Yana, had been concentrated on the beauty in transparency. There were glass doors, chandeliers of fine crystal, and all of the art on the walls were simply etchings. All of the nurses and doctors used clear clipboards, with overhead projector slides for their paperwork.

 

There was a slight scuffle coming from the hallway, and she turned around, blinking as she saw a young man in ripped up leather trousers struggling to put on a shirt and walk at the same time, throwing his body into another, far more elegant older man’s space. It was a threat, and judging from his fangs, he was Family. She recognized the older gentleman as soon as she saw him -- and the security detail trying to hide the scene from the hallway made her avert her gaze. She didn’t want trouble, but the feelings in that area were so stifling. The love, the rage, disappointment, self hatred, anger, guilt, desire, it all hit her like a tidal wave, and she nearly fell to her knees.

 

She wanted to help these people so badly, but they were so far outside of her reach. It reinforced her drive to study. One day, they would not be so untouchable. One day, she would not be eighteen, she would be old enough to have her own office and practice. One day, she would cure the sick and needy, but not of body, of mind. It made her smile, before she glanced up at the sound of a nurse’s cart being kicked over by the angry young man in leather, before he stormed off, looking back at the silver haired man -- Lord Lungbarrow -- and shouting something in Gallifreyan. It felt insulting, from the emotions he gave off.

 

He body checked her and she fell down, stopped in midair by his strong, sure grip on her. Founders, was he _fast_. She flushed, finding they were nose to nose, and she looked right into the eyes of power. She felt every emotion he had on the surface like a freight train, rage, wrath, passion… the passion was nearly a one-two punch for her. She was suddenly imagining him nude, touching her, wanting her…. he’d waited so long to share his body, and with one touch she was ready for him. The warmth blossomed from belly to toes, and everything in between.

 

She trembled, and time felt like it slowed, at first, before a realization acted like a bucket of ice water.

 

Beneath all of that passion, was a man who wanted to share his blood and his body. Beside all of that rage, was a sadness that was where it had begun, a pain that had been soft, but had fanned into a flame. There was this loneliness, this emptiness that had begun with grief and loss that was undealt with. That kind of pain was dangerous. That kind of pain, left untreated for so long, became too much for the bearer, and they often spread it to others. They wanted someone else to feel as poorly as they did, but not as much as they craved human compassion. She could feel, in those moments, that he was reaching toward someone, and his desperation grew with every moment -- unfortunately, that was when most people tended to make their worst decisions.

 

He wrenched her away from him, giving her a glare that could have withered granite. Ah, so he could tell she’d been reading him. She looked down at the ground, submissively, as he stomped off, his father close on his heels, only pausing for a soft apology in his son’s name. The clamor that had filled the hallway moments before made the silence oppressive. All of that glass still vibrated with their sounds.

 

She sighed a bit, shoulders back, and turned around to the mirrored walls of the hallway, trying to quickly fix her reflection before she went to the nurse’s station to change. She was in the middle of fixing her hair when her reflection suddenly stopped moving, hands going down to its sides.

 

She blinked, tilting her head, and stared at it in confusion. Was it hologlass? That was so weird….

 

She tapped the mirrored glass, but it didn’t show the menu screen, like hologlass would have. She began moving her hands, seeing if her reflection would follow her -- and it did, only on the wrong side. She tapped her left cheek, it tapped right. She pulled one side of her hair, it pulled the other. She lifted one arm, it lifted the other. She smiled, it frowned. This just…. perhaps she’d hit her head, and had a concussion. She should go to the nurse’s station and get checked.

 

As soon as she turned to do exactly that, she heard a knocking sound.

 

Fingernails drumming on glass.

 

She slowly turned around, a bit of fear creeping up her spine. She didn’t get a very good feeling from this. Her breath came in a shaky panic.

 

Her reflection waved at her, and then set her left hand on her chin, which instantly gave Lynda the feeling of warmth, of a hand actually on her chin, even though both of hers were at her sides. Her right hand went to the back of her head, and Lynda felt the pressure on her hair, and her scalp. The smile she wore was wicked, right before she moved both hands counter each other, and snapped Lynda’s neck, without ever having touched her. Lynda hit the ground like a sack of bricks, and her reflection slowly crawled out of the mirror, first one hand, then an arm, then a foot, and a leg, followed by the rest of her. She brushed herself off, then looked at the lifeless body on the ground next to her.

 

“Keep it fresh for leftovers…” she blandly ordered the Pythian in the mirror, in the space she’d just come from. “I have a feeling I won’t have the opportunity for a good meal for a while, until we find Rose Red…. and her meddlesome twin, Snow White…”

 

She kicked the corpse through the mirror, and began digging through the girl’s bag, seeing what made up her life, in order to wear her mask well.

 

Of course, all she needed now was a new Huntsman.

 

She watched a male volunteer head to the nurse’s station, and a dark smile came over her face.

 

Opportunity did so favor the bold.

* * *

 

  
It had been decided that Arkytior would ride home with Gamma and Donna, and they had a fairly peaceful go of it.

 

The kindest thing that Braxiatel could say about the ride home with his brother was that it was thankfully silent as he reapplied his eyeliner, but the tension in the car was thick enough to cut with a knife.

 

They made it home within 30 minutes, as Braxiatel had needed to stop by a drive thru for a coffee. Asking his brother if he wanted anything had resulted in a ‘Fuck off, you knob.’

 

Theta flipped his brother the bird through the windshield after he’d parked and gotten out, and caught the look of absolute defeat, mixed with a deep sadness cross Brax’s face before he ascended the steps to the Manor, leaving Theta alone in the car.

 

He smirked, moving to open the door when the locking mechanism snicked, preventing him from even having a handle. Feeling the automobile jerk from sudden weight in the driver’s side, he looked back to see his extremely pregnant sister in law sit down beside him after clicking the ‘automatic drive’ button, which made the steering wheel fold back into the front of the car, and disappear behind a metal wall. It was roomier that way.

 

“Eugh, if you’re going somewhere, I’m not coming--” Theta started.

 

“Listen here, you little shit. You’ve been dealing with my husband, but that’s over with, now. Now, you’re going to deal with me. I am so much scarier than your brother, believe me.” Donna’s tone was low, and her eyes were dead serious.

 

“Go on then, Ginge. Have a go at me.”

 

“Think that’s funny, do you? Always got a good jab, the most hateful, meanest thing you can muster at the moment. Oh, what a charming Time Lord you make.”

 

“Oh, fucking _spare_ me the whole _you’ve got potential_ spiel. My father has given me plenty of tho--”

 

“I don’t think you have potential.”

 

“.... _Excuse_ you?!”

 

“You don’t have any potential. Do you know why?”

 

“Oh, enlighten me, Queen Bit--”

 

“Because you have a ton of people who love and care for you. You have your father who works his arse off every day to be strong for you even though he’s fighting his own _death_ to do it, you have Sarah, who tries to hold the family together when you’re about, the Brigadier who helped _raise_ you, your brother who does three times the work because Arkytior isn’t old enough, and you won’t get off your prissy arse!”   
  
“I--”   
  
“I. Am. Talking.” She waited until he closed his mouth before continuing. “You have a cousin who tried to _save_ you at that poor excuse for a _pub_ you brought her to, which first of all, _really_? A pub for a first date? That’s your big plan, stud?” Her face was as incredulous as she felt. “But none of it matters because you piss all over it! Everyone who reaches their hand out to you!”

 

He looked angry, and turned to snap at her but she wasn’t anywhere near done.

 

“I don’t know what you think you’re proving here, but you’re hurting your family, pushing away your soulmate, pissing me off, and being a walking talking insult to your mother’s memory.”

 

She caught him off guard, and the pain was obvious in his eyes as soon as she said it, all anger deflating.

 

“She’d be damned ashamed of you right now, especially because you’re using her death as an excuse to piss everything away. I know you felt her death acutely. So did Braxiatel, even if he didn’t say anything. For _you_ . He was trying to be strong for _you_ . He was the older brother. He had to comfort you and be a rock for you. Your father had to do the same, and let you hate him if it made you feel better. You don’t think he felt helpless? You don’t think he felt her death? Let me give you a reality check, _sweetheart_ , you know what you felt when Arkytior was attacked at the pub? Imagine that but with a complete bond, and watching her slowly die for two years then see how you feel.”

 

His blood ran cold, and his stomach clenched as he realized the truth of her words. Suddenly, he could imagine watching Arkytior die, and the pain was almost palpable. His hair raised, and tears flooded his eyes as he finally caught the slightest bit of the pain his father had shouldered. His throat burned from the effort of holding them in.

 

Pain he’d made worse.

 

“You need to start thinking about the man you wanna be, for your clan and for your mate. Or you’ll lose her to a better man, and your brother won’t want much to do with you, and that negativity won’t be around my tot. There’s a difference between Family fighting -- because that Family blood still flows through us and we can have tempers with the best of em -- and hurting people just because you can.”

 

He was staring at his lap, and in this moment he looked like a lost little boy, wearing a big boy’s clothes.

 

“I hope you think about that.”

 

She unlocked the car and left.

 

* * *

 

 

Theta walked back into the Manor like a dog with its tail between its legs.

 

He felt extremely humbled, and his sister in law was thankfully appearing to be one not to brag. Well, he couldn’t account for anything she was mentally telling his brother, but he hoped that she wasn’t bragging too harshly on him.

 

...Not that he didn’t deserve…

 

The image of his Mamma, completely ashamed of him, covering her eyes and looking away in disgrace haunted him, even though she never had. Just the thought of how she _would_ see him was enough.

 

He had a mind that was filled with the many things he had said and done, with the many years he had lost in his life, lost to his anger, his rage, to his grief. He’d lost time with his Family, with his friends, and had become an angry recluse and for what? Sure, it was better that he avoid his Family so as not to meet Arkytior too soon, but the way he had lived his life couldn’t even be considered _living_. He’d lived for his rage, he’d stewed in his hatred, and had lost so much because of it.

 

The worst part was that he was still angry. He couldn’t seem to pull that fury from the pit of his stomach, and still wanted other people to hurt as badly as he did. But he didn’t want Arkytior to hurt.

 

Not ever.

 

But he’d made her hurt, and now… as much as he wanted to bond with her, as much as he knew she would understand everything… he needed to rebuild her trust. He wanted to be the man she needed, and needed to be the man she wanted.

 

As he made it into the house, he could see the eyes of Sarah Jane and the Brigadier land on him, but they said not a word at first. Sarah Jane was the first to break the silence.  
  
  
“I’ll fetch you some Mugwort tea, shall I?” She walked away quickly, but he couldn’t mistake the worry lines on her face, nor the tears welling in her eyes as she walked faster than normal, wiping flour from her hands on her apron.

 

He nodded, and began walking up the grand staircase toward his room. He was instantly accosted by a furious dragon, hissing and snarling at him, scales raising and falling like a furious cat’s fur. He was certain that the threat was real, but didn’t have any biting words to give the animal. Those deep eyes regarded him with confusion, not receiving the fear he desired from this situation at all.

 

Matches, not one to simply allow someone to injure his Mummy, remorseful or no, inhaled deeply. His scales glittered and glowed with the beginnings of a fireball that was seen building in his throat and stretching the scales taut until they just looked like spotted leather. His tail wagged from side to side and he switched from one front foot to the other as a cat before a pounce, eyes narrowing at his unmoving target. Just as he opened his mouth ---

 

“Matches, what have I said about incinerating people in the Manor?”  
  
  
The dragon visibly deflated at Gamma’s voice, the tone in gentle reproof. He nearly sank to the floor, then made an annoyed moue, before deciding to do it anyhow. Just as he reared up and opened his mouth, Gamma’s voice came out more forceful.  
  
  
“Matches.”

 

He made a some raspy snarls and growls, waving his claws. He was clearly stating his case for why Theta deserved to be a barbecue. His body trembled with the urge to do, but the repercussions loomed heavily in the air.

  
“I’m very well aware of that. Yes, that too. Mhm.”

 

The young dragon grew frustrated, throwing both of his arms to the side as though showcasing Theta Sigma, in all of his optimal barbecue potential.  
  
  
He made a series of whispered growls, but Gamma was having none of his sass today.   


“ _Matches._ ”

 

He narrowed his eyes at his Mummy’s Papa, who raised an elegant eyebrow and crossed his arms over his broad chest.  
  
  
“Swallow it.” At the shake of his head, Gamma took a dangerous step forward. “Swallow. It.”

 

Matches grumbled in annoyance before painfully swallowing the large fireball back down. He began walking a bit funny, even for a dragon, and just as Theta was about to walk forward, a small toot and a shot of flame from the creature’s rear end lit his pants on fire.   
  
  
Theta jumped and swatted at himself, but to no use; luckily he was saved by McCrimmon tossing a pot of water on him within seconds. So that was why there were random water urns all over their home.

 

McCrimmon had, unfortunately, tossed it on him from high, and thus he was soaked from hair to ankles. He heard his father order Matches to his kennel, and saw Arkytior pop her head out of her room. She had tousled hair, she’d clearly been laying down to rest. He’d bothered her. Sucking up whatever dignity he could muster, he walked proudly down the hall, shoes squishing the entire way, hair stuck to his face, and makeup still on, though severely runny. He paused as he passed his father, nodding to him with respect.

 

“Good evening Father. I believe I shall retire to my quarters.”

 

Spoken through quivering lips, but it was a start. Gamma’s eyes lit in surprise, before he nodded.

 

“I do believe that is the best place for you, Theta. Tomorrow is another day.”

 

His son nodded, and continued down the hall, pausing only to place one closed hand between his hearts for a bow to Arkytior. “Milady. Good evening.”

 

He walked into his room, missing her shocked face -- although not missing Sarah Jane’s “Oh, for Founder’s sake -- not my _rugs_!”

 

* * *

 

 

Theta closed his eyes and leaned against his door as he closed it. He waited a few moments before heading into his shower to become clean, wishing with each pass of his loofah that he could scrub clean what was wrong with him. He treated the people he loved poorly, he turned his nose up at the greatest honor he’d ever been bestowed… he had all of New Earth at his feet, and it wasn’t good enough for him.

 

He’d ruined an occasion that was supposed to be joyous with his ill will and sour temper. He closed his eyes against the memories, but they came anyway.

 

_"Arkytior-"_

_  
_ _"Don't. Don't you bring up that spoiled little bitch, NOT TODAY, IRVING."_

_  
_ _"Ooooh, I'm staying now." Donna snapped, reaching through the desk and finding a sharp pen. "Don't you talk bout Rosie like that!"_

_  
_ _"Calling me by my first name. Mature. But you must maintain your head, Theta. There is something you do not know, we couldn't tell you…. Arkytior-"_

_  
_ _"I still can't believe you gave that creature my mother's name. Apparently you forgot loyalty to your own mother, but let me tell you something right this fucking instant."_

_  
_ _"Theta!"_

_  
_ _"I don't care about her. I don't care about the letters you sent me all about her - I read the section on yourself and Donna, I read about Father, but I ripped hers to shreds. I saw you attached photos of her growing up. I ripped those too without even looking at her. She. Means. Nothing. To. Me."_

_  
_ _"Theta Sigma, for the Founder's sake! Be reasonable, for once in your very existence-"_

 

He grit his teeth, leaning his forehead against the coolness of the tile wall, letting the hot water beat against him as the black from his makeup went down the drain. He knew that the hospital had completely decontaminated him, but something about a hospital environment always made him feel better if he showered at home. He exited the shower and the water clicked off automatically.

  
Clicking the button on his brush made it dry his hair with each pass it made along his scalp, and he frowned a bit at his reflection as his soul mark caught his eye.

 

_You’re mean._ In flowing gold, to live on his wrist for all of eternity. Her words echoed in his mind, especially as he had found out how much making noises caused her physical pain.

 

How badly had it hurt to tell him so?

 

_"Y-y-y-y-ou… y-...you're…. m-m-m-mean!"_

 

It still stung.

 

He made it back to his room with his towel slung lazily across his hips and put on his black silk robe, and a pair of matching underwear that hugged him in just the right places. He could see that Sarah Jane had been in the room as the tea tray was in there, and he smiled as he poured the piping hot water into a cup.

 

Adding a bit of the mugwort and herbs into the tea infuser, he calmly dipped it in as he came to a decision. It was finally time.

 

He dug under his bed and pulled out a lockbox, opening it with a key he’d taped to the bottom. Inside it was positively stuffed with unopened letters, all addressed to him.

 

Taking a deep breath, he sat on his bed with the box and used a letter opener to open the earliest dated one, for he had thrown out none of them, no matter what he’d told his brother in a fit of rage.

 

‘ _Dearest Brother,_

 

_If I may start this correspondence by inquiring of your health?’_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much.
> 
> Natural--blues


End file.
